


One Wild Summer

by elsaa



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Big Brother, Crack Treated Seriously, Friendship, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-10-24 02:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10732194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsaa/pseuds/elsaa
Summary: An extremely self indulgent story where we put all of our favorite hockey players into the Big Brother household and let them run wild.





	1. Week One: Introductions and HOH

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This story is written by two people! ThePackWantstheD [A] and Elsaa [S]!
> 
> Everything in italics is a video interview of some kind! So diary rooms are done in italics and such!

 

Julie Chen walked through the big brother living room wearing a sleek dark blue dress that stopped just above her knees. The eviction area was visible behind her.  There was a dark wall behind her, the dull color a contrast to the sharp silver of the eviction chairs and the white of the couches. 

“In just moments a whole new group of house guests will embark on the craziest summer vacation ever,” Julie said as she approached the camera. “Because they will be locked inside this house for three months. Completely isolated and cut off from the outside world as these cameras and microphones capture their every move.”

She moved swiftly into the next room, no hesitation in her steps. It was more slick and modern than the Big Brother house usually was, less of a clash of colors. When she continued, she said, “This season our contestants won’t be competing on their own, nor will they be strangers. We have sixteen pairs of professional NHL hockey players playing. The final pair standing will give the charity of their choice a half a million dollars.”

As she reached the door to leave the house, she paused and looked directly at the camera. “Now get ready everyone, because this is going to be one brutal game.”

There was cheering from the crowd as she walked out onto the stage. When she reached the end of it, she smiled at the audience. “Good evening. I’m Julie Chen. Welcome to the Big Brother premiere event. This season is going to be different than any before, but it’s sure to be filled with just as many twists and secrets as always. So let’s meet our houseguests.”

* * *

_Dylan Strome, Mitch Marner, John Tavares, and Ryan Strome were all holding up their red nameplates and grinning at each other. Their faces were dirt streaked and sweaty, their clothes messy. There was a muddy grass field behind them that made it clear they’d been playing some kind of game together when they found the keys._

_ “I’m Dylan Strome 3rd overall pick in the 2015 Draft and I play for the Arizona Coyotes. My strategy going is just going to be a strong alliance with my partner, and just dominate in the competitions.” Dylan twitched, paused, and turned to look at Mitch a funny look twisting his features before he scowled. “Oh, and Mitch Marner is my boyfriend and he plays for the Toronto Maple Leafs.”  _

_ Mitch grinned, the smile taking up his entire face and lighting his eyes. “I’m Mitch Marner, 4th overall in the 2015 draft, right after Stromer. I play for the Maple Leafs. I like playing hockey, going fishing and just hanging out with my boys. My strategy going will be to just play my hardest and just making sure I’m playing to my strengths.”   _

_ Ryan was rolling his eyes as the camera focused on his face, “Hi, I’m Ryan Strome and I’m Dylan’s older brother. I was 5th overall in the 2011 Draft and I play for the New York Islanders. My strategy going is... I don’t really have one. I really just want to last longer than Dylan.” _

_ John had his lips pursed together, trying not to laugh at Ryan’s introduction.. He shook his head and stared down the camera. “I’m John Tavares. I went first overall in the 2009 draft to the New York Islanders. I’m fortunate enough to be their captain now. I think my strategy going in is just gonna be thinking before I act and, you know, just making smart alliances.”  _

_ The camera shifted to a small stone bench. It looked to be in the same park as the field had been. Only Dylan and John sat on the bench.  _

_ Dylan sat up straighter, obviously having been waiting for his cue. John looked like he was trying not to laugh again.  _

_ “So when I signed up for this thing, they asked me who I wanted to be my partner. Obviously, I picked John because Mitch is a terror and doesn’t really have any skills besides being an irritating little shit on the ice.” He shrugged, adding, “Also John’s dating Ryan and it’s my prerogative as a little brother to, you know, bother him.”  _

_ John just shrugged, “I didn’t really have a choice. Mitch called dibs on Ryan before anyone else could say anything. Dylan’s not a bad partner to have, though.” _

_ Mitch and Ryan were sitting on playground swings.  _

_ Mitch rolled his eyes, “Of course, Dylan said that. Listen everyone knows that if you’re talking about Strome’s Dylan is last on the list. I’d pick Matthew for a competition before I’d pick Dylan. So, it’s fine if he doesn’t want to play with me. Not everyone likes winning as much as I do.” _

_ Ryan nodded from beside him. Grinning, he said, “Marns I’ve told you that I like you better than Dylan right?”  _

_ Mitch grinned back, “Well duh. That just common sense Ry.”  _

* * *

_Jamie Benn and Tyler Seguin stood outside a pool. They were dressed in nothing but their swim trunks. Everything from their hair to the red nameplates in their hands were dripping wet. It was clear that they’d fished the nameplates out of the pool in front of them._

_ The camera switched, showing the two of them sitting down instead. Jamie was sitting in a deck chair while Tyler was perched on a small plastic table next to him. They’d both pulled shirts on for their interview. Tyler’s was a plain white tank top with the sides cut out of it, emphasizing the dark colors of his tattoos. He’d also thrown a dark hat on, turned so the bill faced backwards. Jamie had pulled on a dark green shirt with Stars Hockey written in the center.  _

_ “Hi,” Jamie said. His voice was a low rumble and his eyes didn’t quite meet the camera, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. “I’m Jamie Benn. I was drafted by the Dallas Stars in the 5th round of the 2007 draft. I’ve been the Captain of the team since 2013.” _

_ “I’m Tyler Seguin,” Tyler said, smiling widely and waving a hand at the camera. “I was drafted 2nd overall by the Boston Bruins in 2010, but I play for the Dallas Stars now.” Here Jamie widened his knees, bumping against Tyler’s calf. Tyler glanced over at him for a moment. His smile brightened as he turned his attention back to the camera, “We’re really close so our strategy as a team is just going to be to use our chemistry and understanding of each other to win competitions. You can’t beat telepathy, right?” _

_ “We’re not telepathic,” Jamie objected.  _

_ Tyler widened his knees just as Jamie had, bumping their legs together again. “Shh, Jamie. Of course we are.” _

* * *

_Marc-Andre Fleury and Kristopher Letang stood with an arm thrown each others shoulders grinning like the cat that had caught the canary. In the background there was the sound of laughing children_

_ Marc-Andre smiled at the camera,  “So I am Marc-Andre Fleury. I usually go by Flower. I was first overall in the 2003 draft and I play for the Pittsburgh Penguins. I think mine and Kris’ strategy is just to play to our strengths and have a lot of fun. You know, wreak some havok, throw some people off their game.”  _

_ Kris laughed throwing his head back but calmed himself. He was used to Flower’s antics. “My name is Kristopher Letang. I was drafted third round and I play for the Pittsburgh Penguins. I think Marc-Andre and I have a good chance at winning because of just how we’ve been playing together but we’ve also bought got our individual skills and I think that they compliment each other.”  _

* * *

“So I guess you and Strome are playing together?” Jamie said.

He was walking into the house next to Tavares, part of the first group allowed inside. 

“Yeah,” John said with a nod of his head. 

“Gonna be hard to beat if there’s a competition about our knowledge of our partners,” Jamie observed. When John looked at him with an eyebrow raised, obviously asking for clarification, Jamie added, “Given that you guys are a couple?”

“Oh,” John said. “Not that Strome. I’m playing with Dylan.”

“You are?” Jamie asked. “The kids didn’t want to play with each other?”

Ryan had walked in ahead of them, but stopped to wait for John to enter before he went any further. Now he let out a loud laugh. “Are you kidding me? They love each other, but those two are competitive as hell.”

“This is kinda lame,” Tanger said as he entered the house. He was craning his head around, taking in the decorations of the house. Tyler ducked past him, Mitch and Dylan on his heels, and towards the bedroom areas. “It looks like something Sidney would live it.”

“Sometimes I listen to you guys talk about Sidney,” John said, “and I really hope that my team doesn’t talk about me that way.”

“We wouldn’t tease him if he wasn’t so lame,” Flower said. Looking around, he told Tanger, “I agree though. I was really excited to have like orange walls with purple Spongebob flowers on them, you know? Vero never lets me do fun stuff like that to our house.”

“Jamie! Jamie!” Tyler screeched, his voice echoing from the back rooms and towards the living main area of the house. “There’s a fucking room in here decorated like our team! There’s a fucking decal of you on the wall!”

“Do you think there’s a Penguins one too?” Flower asked, glancing over at Tanger. 

“Dunno,” Tanger said with a shrug. “We should go check before the others get here though. I don’t what anyone else taking a bed in our room.”

“No one else  _ wants  _ a bed in your room,” Ryan said. “That obnoxious fucking gold is the worst color in the world. No one would be able to sleep with that on the walls.”

“Excuse you. Our colors are not the most obnoxious in this world,” Tanger said. 

“Yeah!” Flower agreed. “We’re Penguins, not Flyers.”

* * *

_Claude Giroux and Danny Briere sat across from each other at a small table. There was a scrabble board between them with Big Brother spelled out with the tiles. They were lifted up, leaning over the board with their nameplates in their hands._

_ Both of them settled down in their seats for their interview. The scrabble board was still between them, but more words had been added to it. Things like “veto”, “house guests”, and “alliance.” _

_ “Hey,” Claude greeted with a grin wide enough to show off his missing tooth. “I’m Claude Giroux. I was drafted 22nd in the 2006 draft by the Philadelphia Flyers. Right now I’m the captain of the team.” _

_ “I’m Danny Briere,” Danny said. “I was drafted 24th overall in the 1996 draft by what was the Phoenix Coyotes. I played for a few different teams, but I played seven seasons either for the Flyers or their affiliates.” Tipping his head towards Claude, he said, “We’ve been friends for a long time and we’re super close even now that I’m retired. Claude actually lived with my sons and I for a year when we were both playing for the Flyers.” _

_ “Yeah,” Claude agreed with a nod of his head.  “Even though I’m engaged to Sidney Crosby I refuse to win anything for a Penguin, so obviously Danny was my first choice when I was asked to pick a partner for the show. Ours strengths are really complimentary and I think they’ll be good for making sure we last longer than anyone else.” _

_ “I wasn’t actually going to do the show at all,” Danny said. “But Claude thought there were too many Penguins on the initial list and wanted to even it out.” _

_ “Even one Penguin would be too many.” _

_ “You're engaged to one,” Danny pointed out, amusement in his voice.  _

_ “I said what I meant,” Claude said. “And I meant what I said.” _

* * *

_The words “House Guest” where spelled out in giant letters on the ice in pucks. Jonathan Toews and Sidney Crosby stood in front of them. They grinned at each other and bumped fists._

_ Sidney smiled at the camera, “Hey, I’m Sidney Crosby. I was drafted first overall in 2005 by the Pittsburgh Penguins. I’m the Captain of the team as well. I like to spend a lot of my time just back in Cole Harbor, hanging with my family. I think our strategy going in is just going to play smart, make some smart alliances and just give it a 110%. If we happen to make further than my fiance Claude Giroux...well then you know that’s just a bonus.”  _

_ Jonny laughed and shook his head. He was used to the competitive nature of Sidney and Claude’s relationship.  _

_ “I’m Jonathan Toews and I was drafted third overall in the 2006 draft. I play for and am Captain of the Chicago Blackhawks. We’ve won a few cup,” Jonny said with a large grin. Sidney made a face at his cup reference, nose scrunching. Jonny ignored him. “I spend a lot my free time working with youth in Chicago, doing gardening and just trying to show them the importance of a healthy lifestyle. I think Sid is absolutely right when it comes to our strategy. We both know how to go out there and compete. As long we're smart we’ll sure we’ll at least be able to make it to the end.”  Jonny tilted his head to side and smirked, “Or at least farther than Kaner.”  _

* * *

_Patrick Kane and Patrick Sharp stood outside a large house together. Sharp was wearing his Dallas Stars jersey while Kane wore his Chicago Blackhawks one. Sharp had Kane in a headlock, rubbing a fist against Kane’s dark blonde locks. There was a brotherly feel to the photo with the way they were laughing and smiling. Both of them had their name plates hanging loosely from their fingers._

_The two of them were sitting on the front step of the house for their interview, side by side with their shoulders touching._

_“I’m Patrick Kane,” Kane greeted, lifting a hand up in hello. His hair was sticking up at all ends and his face was flushed red from laughter. “I was drafted 1st overall by the Chicago Blackhawks in 2007. I still play for them now.”_

_“I’m Patrick Sharp,” Sharp said. “I was drafted in the 3rd round of the 2001 draft. I was drafted by the Philadelphia Flyers, but I spent most of my career playing for the Blackhawks with Kaner here.” He bumped their shoulders together friendly camaraderie in the gesture. “I play for the Dallas Stars now, though.”_

_“We play for different teams now, but we’re still really good friends,” Kane said._

_“Yeah,” Sharp said with a small nod. “He’s like the little brother I can’t get rid of.”_

_“Shut up,” Kane said, jabbing his elbow into Sharp’s ribs. “It’s not like you want to get rid of me anyway.”_

_Sharp smiled, laughing as he moved out of the way. “I think we’re just looking to have some fun while we’re in the house. I may be older than some of the other guys, but I like pranks. I think we’re just gonna do what I can on that front to throw people off their game.”_

_ “I’m just glad I’m not going to be his victim this time,” Kane said.  _

_ “Oh Kaner,” Sharp said, drawing the word out affectionately. “How naive you are.” _

* * *

_Vladimir Tarasenko and Artemi Panarin were both standing next to a grill dressed in Hockey Russia t-shirts and cargo shorts. There were black smudges on their nameplate but grins on their faces._

_ “Hello! I’m Vladimir Tarasenko and I was drafted second overall in 2010 to the St. Louis Blues. I still play there,” Tarasenko introduced. “I think going in we're just going to have use or skills to our advantage, and think quick on feet, as things change. Artemi is very good with people and I think we can use that.” _

_ Artemi waved at the camera, flashing a sweet grin at the same time. “I am Artemi Panarin, I play for the Chicago Blackhawks. I think that Vladimir and I will be maybe a little bit underestimated. Can use that to our advantage. I think we’ll be able to go far, and hopefully win the whole thing.”  _

_ Vladimir pursed his lips tightly for a moment before, “We should have drafted him.”  _

_ “Oh God. Let it go Vladimir.”  _

* * *

“Are we going to have to worry about you and Giroux trying to kill each other?” Sharpy had his eyebrow raised at Sidney as they took in the surrounding just past the door. “I just want to know now. In case I need to be prepared to duck and cover.”

Sidney face scrunched in confusion. He spoke slowly, trying to figure out what he was missing, “We're getting married, Sharpy. You sent back the RSVP.” 

“That’s not the point. Kaner and Tazer have been together for years and you’d never know it by the way they scream at each on the ice.” 

“Hey!” come the combined agitated shouts from Jonny and Patrick. 

“Oh, don’t hey me. You both know it’s true,” Sharpy narrowed his eyes at them. “Honestly, I miss Chicago but I do not miss that.”

Jonny rolled his eyes and grabbed his duffel from the floor where he’d dropped it before turning to Kaner, “Come on Peeka-Boo. Let’s go find our room eh?”

“There’s one decked out for the Hawks down the hall, Toews. It’s on the left. It’s not nearly as cool as the Flyers but it’s way better than the Shitsburgh one.” Claude was standing at top of the stairs like some kind of Disney princess ready to make her entrance.

There’s a loud sigh from Sidney who was still near the door, but Claude wasn’t phased by it. He just sauntered down the stairs, smirking the entire time. Artemi muttered something Russian to Vladimir who snickered as they passed by Sidney, going to search for a room they could sleep in.

“Fuck you,” said Sidney, glaring at Claude. There was no real no heat behind the words or the glare though.

Claude smirk just intensified. “Not right now, but maybe later Crosby.”

“Fucking hell get a room. There’s a child here,” Ryan Strome complained. He was up at the top of the stairs that Claude had just come from with Dylan and Mitch, the three of them waiting to see who else was competing. There’d been a fairly long list of competitors that had been narrowed down without everyone’s knowledge in order to keep some mystery about who would be in the house. Ryan had his hands clamped firmly over his little brother’s ears, attempting to shield him from the conversation.

Mitch peered over Ryan’s shoulder, a scowl on his face, “What do you mean  _ a _ child? What about me? I’m as innocent as he is.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Drop the act Mr. Instigator. Dyls told me the stories.”  

Claude looked over his shoulder at Ryan, grinning like the  Cheshire cat before he finished crossing the room to stop right in front of Sidney. He pulled Sidney in for what could only be described as an absolutely filthy kiss.

Ryan didn’t stick around for long. Instead he corralled both Dylan and Mitch, who was making retching noises, back down towards the bedrooms.

Sharpy closed his eyes and sighed as he listened to the now arguing  fiancés , “I should have just stayed home.”

* * *

_Nicklas Backstrom and Andre Burakovsky sat together in a tiny cafe. Andre was laughing as he cut his fork into a small pastry. Across from him, Nicklas was sipping on a mug of coffee. There nameplates sat on the table next to them. Despite Andre’s darker coloring, the picture looked exactly like a father and son getting coffee together._

_ Their interview was set up at the same table. Andre was still digging into his sweet as Nicklas said, voice soft, “ Hallå. I’m Nicklas Backstrom. I was drafted 4th in the 2006 draft to the Washington Capitals. I’m still playing for them now.” _

_ “I’m Andre Burakovsky,” Andre greeted, voice as sweet as the treat he’d been eating. “I was drafted by the Washington Capitals in 2013.” Grinning, he said, “I think our strategy is just going to be to use the fact that everyone else underestimates us to our advantage. No one’s stupid enough to underestimate papa on the ice, but off of it people tend not to realize how crazy he can be since pops is always overshadowing us. I mean, it’s hard to be more insane then pops.” _

_ “Please stop referring to us as papa and pops,” Nicky said. Despite his words there was no hint of exasperation or genuine annoyance in his voice. It was like he was already so used to this that he wasn’t even phased by it anymore.  _

_ “What else are we supposed to call you?” _

_ “Nicky? Backie? Any other variation on my actual name?” he suggested. “Something which doesn’t suggest I made three children as troublesome as you, Latta, and Wilson?” _

_“Don’t sound so disappointed, papa,” Andre said. “You know you love us.”_

* * *

_Nathan MacKinnon and Gabriel Landeskog were sweaty smiley messes as they looked at each other with matching grins. They’d just discovered their name red name plates underneath some free weights._

_“So I’m Nathan MacKinnon I went first overall in the 2013 to the Colorado Avalanche and I’m ah still there today. I spend a lot time back home in Nova Scotia in the summer just working out trying to keep in shape for when the season comes back. Our strategy going in is just to not be too aggressive, find our bearings before we make any big moves and try and keep our eyes on the prize.”  He bumped Gabe’s shoulder when he was done._

_Gabe smiled at the camera, all charm and sunshine. “Hi! I’m Gabe Landeskog and I went second overall in the 2011 draft, also to the Avalanche. I’m still there today now as the Captain. I agree with Nate. We're going to try and get a feel for things before we make any hard alliances, just try and keep our heads down a little bit and avoid looking like too much of a threat. Plus, Dutchy told us make him proud so we'll try to do that too.”_

_Nate groaned, “Gross man.”_

_Gabe blushed, not that he’ll ever admit it to anyone._

* * *

_Jason Demers and Jordie Benn were standing together in a backyard. Both of them were dressed down in shorts and tee-shirts. They had both shoved hats on over their hair, though the brim was flipped backwards. They had one arm slung around each other’s waists, holding their nameplates up with giant grins on their faces._

_ “I’m Jordie Benn,” Jordie greeted. “I played seven seasons with the Dallas Stars and their affiliates along with my younger brother, Jamie, before being traded to the Montreal Canadiens.” _

_ “I’m Jason Demers,” Jason greeted, flashing a charming smile. “I was drafted by the San Jose Sharks in 2008, but I play for the Florida Panthers right now. I played for the Dallas Stars before that though.” _

_ “The two of us have a lot of fun together,” Jordie said. “I think strategy-wise we’re just hoping to do the same here. We’re pretty charismatic people and we just want to use that to get as far as we can.” _

_ “And maybe stir a little hell while we’re at it,” Jason admitted.  _

* * *

_PK Subban was half dressed for what was clearing a suit fitting while Carey Price was dressed in shorts and Habs tee. They were both grinning as they sat in chairs flanked by large mirrors. Their nameplates hung from the top of the mirror._

_ “Hey, so I’m PK Subban but you can call me Subby if you want. I was drafted 43rd overall in 2007 to the Montreal Canadiens, but now I play for the Nashville Predators.” PK tried to smile more to compensate for the storm cloud that had taken over Carey’s face when the interview started. “I think our strategy coming is just going to be relying on skills. We’re both people people and I think that’s really going to big help.”  _

_ When the camera panned back to Carey, he didn’t look like he was going to kill someone any longer but he wasn’t exactly smiling either. “So I’m Carey Price. I was drafted 5th overall in 2005 to the Montreal Canadiens and I’m still there now. I think we’ll probably go with PK’s charming strategy. But if that doesn’t work, I’m not afraid to get a little physical. I don’t get out of the net much when we’re on the ice.” _

_ PK pouted at Carey. “Pricey, are trying to tell me you think people can resist my charm?”  _

_ Carey snorted, incredibly amused. “It’s not hard PK. I do it all the time.”  _

* * *

A group of players were gathered around waiting to see who was going to come through the door next. Tyler had been sitting on one of the couches in the eviction area, but the second Jordie stepped through the door he was on his feet.

“Jor!” Tyler exclaimed. He practically flew across the room, wrapping his arms tightly around his former teammate. “Thank fuck! I was starting to think they’d decided not to include you guys.”

“Nah,” Jordie dismissed. He gave Tyler a tight squeeze. When he let go, Jamie immediately stepped forward to wrap his arms around his brother. “Would suck if they did though. Don’t know what I’d do without you two bothering me for three months.”

“Whatever it is you do without us in Montreal?” Tyler suggested. Sidestepping, he reached out for Jason. “Hey, Daddy. I’ve missed you.”

“The only thing he does in Montreal is bother me,” Carey said as he pushed past the group. 

“Excuse you,”Jordie objected. “I share the wealth equally.”

“Sure doesn’t feel that way.”

Sidney was standing up on the top level where the Head of Household room was, leaning against the railing to see the people filing in below them. He hummed softly as he caught sight of Backstrom and Burakovsky walking in together. “No Ovi?”

“Doesn’t look like this,” Jonny observed. He was leaning against the railing next to Sidney. “You think they didn’t pick him?”

“No way,” Sidney said with a shake of his head. “That’d be a terrible move on their part.”

Jonny hummed. “You think he dropped out then?”

Sidney thought about what it would be like to spend three months stuck in a house with Ovechkin. “God. Let’s hope so.”

* * *

_Brendan Gallagher and Alex Galchenyuk were wrestling on the floor of their living room. Alex had his arm wrapped around one of Brendan’s legs attempting to pin the bottom half of his body to the floor. Brendan was making that pretty hard, though, since he was flailing wildly. Their nameplates had been abandoned on the carpet next to them._

_ “What are you? A magikarp? Everyone knows flail is a shit move, you asshole,” Alex breathed. He was panting slightly with the effort of trying to pin down Brendan.  _

_ Brendan made a shushing sound that came out rather puffy. Taking a deep breath, he managed to get out, “So I’m a Brendan Gallagher and I was drafted in the 5th round by the Habs, and they haven’t gotten rid of me yet. Chucky and I are planning on going - Ouch! Chucky! Fucking stop - and just playing to the best of are ability and trying to stay out of any drama.”  _

_ “Don’t “ouch” me, Gally! And stop fucking moving! You almost kneed me in the face!” growled Alex before finally managing to twist his legs around Brendan well enough to stop his movements and give himself a moment to breathe.  _

_He took a few moments to catch his breath before looking at the camera. “So I’m Alexander Galchenyuk, but usually I’m called Alex or Chucky. I was drafted 3rd overall in 2012 for Montreal. I’m still there, though I don’t why they keep Gally around. Gally and I will be playing to our strengths and trying to just keep one step ahead of the competition since I’ve managed to get stuck babysitting him again this summer.”_

_Gally tried to kick him after his final statement, “I don’t need babysitting!”_

* * *

_Tom Wilson was standing inside a pool with Michael Latta balanced on his shoulders. They were playing chicken with two other men, but the other two weren’t visible. Michael had his legs wrapped securely around Tom’s shoulders while Tom had what was practically a death grip on Michael’s legs to keep him in place. Michael reached out, grabbing something from their competitors. When he pulled his hand back, he had two red nameplates in his hand._

_ Tom and Michael were still in the pool for the interview, but they were alone now. Tom had his front pushed against the edge of the pool, holding himself up with his arms folded and resting on the edge to keep him up. Michael wasn’t on his shoulders anymore, but he had his arms wrapped around Tom’s neck to keep himself up and his chin hooked on Tom’s shoulder. _

_ “Hi,” Tom said, giving a huge charming smile. “I’m Tom Wilson. I was drafted 16th overall in 2012, by the Washington Capitals who I still play for now.” _

_ “I’m Michael Latta,” Michael said. “I was drafted by the Nashville Predators in 2009, but I play for the Rockford Icehogs which are affiliated with the Chicago Blackhawks.” _

_ “Lats used to play for the Capitals,” Tom explained. He looked vaguely upset for a moment before he shook it off. “Long distance is kinda rough when you play hockey like we do since it doesn’t leave us much time to visit each other. So we’re pretty happy to have the opportunity to spend the summer together.” _

_ “It’s gonna be great,” Michael said, smiling brightly. “We want to stay here as long as possible, so our strategy is going to involve working together. We make a pretty great team, so I think we can go pretty far if we use that to our advantage.” _

_ “We are a pretty good team aren’t we?” Tom said, craning his head back to grin at Michael.  _

_ “I’d like to think so.” _

* * *

_If It wasn’t for their large size it might have been difficult to find Evgeni Malkin and Alexander Ovechkin amongst the massive dogs  they were sitting with. There were several German Shepherds and one very large French Mastiff. Evgeni and Alexander were smiling as they held bright red nameplates, freshly unclipped from a dog collar._

_“Hello! I am Evgeni Malkin but everyone call me Geno. I was drafted second overall in 2004 to Pittsburgh Penguins. I think that Ovi and I just... you know go hard and try our best to win lots of competitions. It’ll be lots of fun playing against Sid and fun to watch Ovi and Backie try to kill each other.”_

_ “Backie is not going to try and kill me, Zhenya. Backie loves me,” Ovi said looking hurt and deliberately ignoring Geno over exaggerated eyeroll. “Hi! I’m Alexander Ovechkin and I was drafted  first  overall in 2004 to the Washington Capitals. I’m the captain too. I agree with Geno that it’ll be lot of fun to crush Sid, but I think it’ll be more fun to watch Giroux try to kill Sidney. But we’re just going to go in and play our best, make nice alliance with other Russians to destroy Cana- I mean to get us farther in the house.” _

_“Don’t bully Sid, Sasha,” Geno said shaking his head. “Nikita always loves his gifts best and I need him for season.”_

* * *

_Noah Hanifin and Jeff Skinner were on the ice together, wearing white figure skates instead of hockey skates. Skinner looked completely comfortable standing in them, holding his nameplate in one hand while he leaned against Noah. His partner looked slightly less comfortable, shifting all of his weight so that if he fell he’d fall towards Skinner instead of falling onto the ice._

_ For their interview they were off the ice, sitting on a bench instead. Skinner’s skates were still laced up, but Noah had kicked his off.  _

_ “Hi,” Jeff said, his voice practically a chirp. “I’m Jeff Skinner. I was drafted 7th overall by the Carolina Hurricanes in 2010.” _

_ “Noah Hanifin. “I was drafted by the same. 5th overall in 2015,” Hanifin explained. “Our strategy is basically just for Jeff to be a sunshine-y and lovely as always while I stir up trouble.” He reached out, setting his hands on either side of Skinner’s face. Skinner laughed at him, smiling as Hanifin squeezed his cheeks. “I mean look at him! He’s practically a Disney Prince! No one’s going to want to vote him out.” _

_ “I don’t think that’s true,” Skinner said, still laughing a bit.  _

_ “It’s absolutely true,” Noah said, shaking his head in disagreement with Jeff. “No one ever wants to fight with a Disney Prince.” _

_ “Didn’t Aladdin get chased by the cops?” Skinner pointed out. “And wasn’t Flynn a wanted criminal?” _

_ “They weren’t princes yet,” Noah argued. “You’re already a Prince. We got this.” _

* * *

Everyone was talking in the living room, waiting for the last four pairing to arrive, when the doors were kicked open. It bounced off the wall with a crash and Ovi walked in with a huge grin on his face.

“Nope,” Sidney and Nicky said at the same time.

There were twin looks of horror on their faces at Ovi’s appearance, but it was Sidney who got off the couch. As he walked back towards the bedrooms, he made loud claims about going to home to Canada where sanity lived. A very entertained Claude followed behind him. 

Ovi pouted at Nicky, “Backie not happy to see me?”

Nicky scowled. “Go home. Go spend the summer in Russia.” 

Ovi smiled. “I signed a contract. I’m here until Geno and I get evicted.” 

Geno sighed, “If Sid kill me for not telling him you’re my partner, I’m trusting Backstrom to kill you for me.” 

There was a loud banging noise before Sidney and Claude came back into the room. Sidney had his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, apparently serious about his exit. Claude was trying to put his body in front of Sidney. PK and Tyler were attempting to hold in their laughter, but it seemed to be taking some effort. 

“Claude move,” huffed Sidney, trying to get around his  fiancé again. “I don’t want to die. Plus, if I leave then we can get married earlier. We don’t have to wait three months to do more planning.” 

Claude rolled his eyes at Sidney’s dramatics but his face was still soft. He reached out for Sidney, getting his hands on Sidney’s and twining their fingers together. “Come on, baby. It’ll be fun, you won’t die. Plus! If I have my way you’ll get evicted by the end of week anyway and you’ll get to go home! Only I’ll get some satisfaction out of it and you won’t be letting Ovechkin win.”

Before Sidney could even respond, Jonny spoke up, “What the fuck, Sid? If you leave, I’m partner-less. I wanna beat Peeka-Boo.” 

“You fucking wish, Captain Serious,” Kaner shouted. He tucked himself into Sharpy’s side. The older Patrick just sighed, used to Kaner and Jonny’s antics but still exasperated by it. 

Before Jonny could do more than scowl at the nickname, Ovi spoke over everyone. “Why is nobody happy to see me?” 

It seemed to be Ovi’s turn to pout, but then Wilson and Latta were putting their arms around his shoulders.  

“We’re happy to see you Pops! And so is Andre!” said Latta squeezing Ovi’s shoulders. He winked at Andre who was grinning at the group. “Sidney’s just crazy. It’s probably just the water in Shitsburgh.”

Geno glared at the collection of Capitals.  “Hey, if we so shitty than how come we win the cup and not you?” 

The Capitals looked annoyed at being reminded of their disappointing second round curse. 

It’s quiet for a moment before Jeff spoke up. During all the arguing Jeff had attached himself to Sidney, hugging him tightly. His voice was muffled by Sidney's chest. “Nobody's leaving. We all signed contracts and it was hard enough get the NHL to agree. So how about we all go back to our rooms and take some time to get to know the house before we have to get ready for the HOH competition.” 

Everyone was quiet for a moment before there were murmurs of agreement. Claude smiled at Jeff in thanks, patting him on the back before leading Sidney back down the hall. The children were all chatting happily together now, comparing notes about the previous hockey season and showing off war wounds. Ovi was grinning at Nicky who looked like he’d rather be eaten by sharks than be stuck in a house with Ovechkin for three months.

But hey everyone was still in one piece and that’s what mattered right? 

* * *

Claude followed Sidney through the house, making note of the room he was heading towards. “You’re putting your stuff in the Pens room?”

“Well yeah,” Sidney said. He pushed open the door to the room. Claude followed after him, making a face as he took in the bright yellow walls and the penguin decals all over the room. He considered it a plus that there wasn’t a giant decal of Sidney’s face, but the yellow was so overbearingly bright. “We’re sleeping in here aren’t we?”

Claude let out a loud laugh. “No, we aren’t.”

“Where else would we sleep?” Sidney asked. He dropped his bag onto the bed against the far wall, where he’d set it the first time. Before he’d seen Ovechkin and seriously considered just paying the money to break the contract. He’d already agreed with Jonny that they were going to be donating to their charity regardless of whether they won or not. If he dropped out early, he’d just add an extra half million to it. “I’m the Penguin’s captain.”

“ _ I’m  _ the Flyers’ captain and I’m not sleeping in this room,” Claude answered. “I wouldn’t sleep in this room when there wasn’t a camera on us. I’m definitely sleeping in this room on national television.”

“I’m not sleeping in a room designed for the Flyers,” Sidney argued. He shook his head. “No way.”

Claude shifted his weight, folding his arms over his chest. Flower and Tanger pushed past him, looking over their shoulders at the standoff in the doorway. 

“Then,” Claude said, “I guess you’re sleeping alone.”

“What? Claude, you can’t be serious,” Sidney said. “It’s the  _ summer.  _ We haven’t had more than a weekend in the same bed since training camp started in September and you want to sleep in different rooms now that we’re together?”

“Rather sleep alone than sleep in here,” Claude said. He turned on his heel, moving to walk out of the room. As he did, he shouted, “Danny! My  fiancé won’t cuddle with me! Can we sleep together tonight?”

“As long as you keep your cold feet to yourself!” Danny answered. 

“Claude!” Sidney shouted. “Come on! It’s just a wall!”

“If it’s just a wall than you can sleep in my room,” Claude said. 

* * *

Several members of the house gathered in the living room, waiting for an announcement about their first HOH competition. The Russians were holding court in the kitchen, laughing loudly while snatches of russian drifted into throughout of the front part of the house. And even though there was more than enough room for space for everyone to have their own seat, but Michael preferred to use his boyfriend as furniture. He was draped across Dylan’s lap, while they chatted with Tom and Michael. Alex and Brendan were wrestling on the floor again where being scolded by Carey and laughed at by PK.

“Hey Chubbs,” said Jordie, calling over to his brother. He’d been talking to Jonny and Kaner when he spotted Jamie coming into the room. “Did mom give you same talk she gave me?”

Jamie scowled at the nickname, but asked, “The one about, not embarrassing the family and not killing each other?” Jordie nodded in answer. “Yeah I got the same one. Did she give that cream you know for your  _ rash _ before you left?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just walked away.

Instead of showing any kind of annoyance at his brother comment, Jordie just laughed throwing head back.

“What was that about?” asked Kaner, glancing at Jamie’s back.

Jordie was grinning as he explained, “Jamie hates that nickname. He’s been trying to get me stop using it by insinuating that I have a rash. Given that it’s been ages, he really needs to learn some better tactics.”

Kaner laughed. “I’ve never been happier to have sisters.”

Jonny hip checked him lightly a small smile on his face, “I’m going to remind you of that next time Erica bothers you about not being home enough.”

Kaner groaned. “It’s like she doesn’t understand what I do for a living. It’s a lot easier for her to come to Chicago than for me to go to Buffalo. And yet, she refuses to come to Chicago even when she knows I’d pay for it.”

“Jenny usually just shows up at our place,” Jordie said. He glanced over at Jamie before his grin widened. “There was this one time when she used the spare key to Jamie’s new place and saw a little more of him and Tyler than she bargained for.”

Jonny and Kaner howled with laughter.

* * *

PK let out a small sigh. It wasn’t exhausted or exasperated, rather it sounded relieved.

Carey glanced over at him. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” PK said. “Happy to be here with you guys, you know?”

Carey pursed his lips together. He tried his best not to be bitter about the trade, but he hated the way it had gone down. He hated what Therin had said about PK, hated how he’d spat on everything PK had done not just for the Habs but for Montreal as a city. Being angry about it didn’t help anyone, though. It wouldn’t get PK back and it wouldn’t make Weber feel comfortable on the team.

“Seriously, thank you for agreeing to this,” PK said. “I know you probably wanted to spend the summer with Liv.”

“It’s okay,” Carey said. He and Angela had talked about it extensively before he’d signed the contract. Carey had been worried about agreeing since he didn’t get to spend nearly enough time with her and Liv during the season, but Angela had waved him off. She’d joked about how he wasn’t going to make it very far anyways. Under it, though, there had been an understanding that Carey needed the opportunity to spend time with PK and work out his feelings about the trade. “You’ve got to come visit for a while once this is over, though. I’m pretty sure she misses Uncle PK more than she misses daddy.”

There was a moment of silence, PK’s eyes going a little sad, before he fixed on a bright grin. “I mean, obviously. I’m way cooler than you are, Pricey.”

Carey hummed as he turned his eyes back to the Gallys. He was going to kill them if one of them got injured. He widened his legs so his knee bumped against PK’s, “Alright, PK. Whatever you say.”

* * *

Claude had missed Tyler. He could be a disaster sometimes, but he was a generally upbeat person and such a fun guy to be around. It’s the nature of their business, though, that they have friends all over the league, either from international competitions or trades, so Claude didn’t usually dwell on it but it was nice to be in the house talking to him now.

“-the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Tyler said, smile was so wide it took up his entire face. “He made me promise not to tell anyone either...oops.”

Claude felt Sidney shake slightly against his side as he laughed quietly, because  Antoine Roussel cuddling with his cat in his sleep was priceless. The Frenchman liked to act tough, but he was actually just a giant puppy and everyone knew it.

“Rous is gonna kill you,” Jamie said, shaking his head at Tyler. Despite disapproving words, there was amusement in his smile. “And I’m not going to stop him.”

Tyler face twisted into a pout. He whined, “Jamie that’s so mean. If you kill me then Marshall and Cash are going to be by themselves! How could even consider letting a father be taken from his children?”

Jamie apparently wasn’t going to argue with Tyler, a smart move if you asked Claude. Instead Jamie looked over at Sidney, ignoring Tyler sulking next to him, “So how goes the wedding planning?” 

“A lot better since we got the RSVPs out,” he said. “I’m just glad we finally figured out where we were having it. We’ve been arguing about that since we got engaged.”

Claude groaned. They’d been having this conversation for months now. “It only took so long because you wanted to get married in Nova Scotia. I love you, I really do, but I’d rather get married by Elvis in Vegas than get married in Nova Scotia.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Nova Scotia,” said Sidney. He sighed heavily, the weight of a well worn argument in the sound. “We could have gotten married at the lake. It would have been pretty  _ and  _ saved us some money.” 

Claude was shaking his head before Sidney even finished his sentence. “I don’t care if it would have been beautiful. You’re one of the highest paid players in the league and I’m not exactly broke myself.. There was no way I was agreeing to get married at our house.

“I still think you should have picked Cancun,” mumbled Tyler.

Jamie shook his head. “Claude and Sid don’t have to get married in Mexico just because you like to vacation there.”

“I suggested Gettysburg too. Claude said it was too close to Pittsburgh, though, and that he wasn’t getting married on a battlefield,” Sidney said. He shrugged as if he didn’t know what could possibly be wrong with a battlefield as a wedding venu. 

“See,” Claude said gesturing to Sidney’s body. “This is why we have a wedding planner, because apparently he doesn't want me to enjoy our wedding day.”

* * *

“Are you really upset with Ovechkin?” Gabriel asked. He was leaning against the island in the kitchen, forearms braced against the countertop, watching as Nicklas peered into the fridge.

“Less with Ovi and more with the producers of the show. He signed the paperwork, but they're the ones who decided to stick him in here with the rest of us,” Nicklas said. He didn’t bother looking back at Gabriel when he answered. “I don’t want to spend three months stuck with him.”

“Why not?” 

“Because I spend every other month of the year with him,” Backstrom answered. “I spend every hour of every day during the season dealing with the fact that he’s one wrong move away from becoming the Joker.”

“Ovi’s a good guy,” Landeskog argued. “He’s not some kind of psychopathic villain.”

“He’s not a villain, no. I still haven’t made a diagnosis on the other bit though,” Backstrom answered. He looked up from the fridge, looking over his shoulder at Gabriel. “I’m leaning more towards narcissistic than psychopathic.”

“You are not,” Gabriel huffed. There was a small bowl of nuts in front of him. He plucked one of them from the bowl, tossing it at Nicky’s forehead. Nicky scrunched his face as it bounced off. He grinned triumphantly before asking, “How does the food selection look?”

“Like Jonny is going to be screaming about his diet for the next three months,” Nicky answered. 

Before Gabriel could answer, the house speaker's crackled to life. “Would contestants please get get dressed and meet outside for the HOH competition?”

* * *

Jonny liked bananas, but he’d be more than happy to never see another banana in his life.

The HOH competition was simple. It was an endurance challenge where each pair had to climb onto and hold onto a single banana for as long as they could. After a few minutes, the bananas were sprayed with foam and chocolate that made it harder to keep from slipping. 

Jonny had his arms locked around that banana as well as his legs. He wasn’t in too much discomfort. It seemed like Sidney wasn’t either because he was silent above Jonny. His eyes shut and his forehead against the banana, expression completely smooth and unbothered. 

Jonny was pretty certain they were in for a long night. Given that they were professional athletes it would be pretty pathetic for an athletic challenge, even an endurance one, to end quickly.

There was another collective groan as chocolate sprayed out dirtying them all once again. 

It was at the thirty minute mark that Hanifin started talking. 

“Hey Nate,” Hanifin drawled, Boston accent thick, “did you hear that Claude thinks Ottawa is better than Nova Scotia?” 

There was a beat of silence.

“The fuck, man,” said Nate. Jonny saw him moving so he could see Claude. The movement jostled his banana, prompting a yell from Gabe. Nate ignored him. “What’s wrong with Nova Scotia?” 

Claude groaned. “Everything! Sure it’s nice if you want to like…commune with nature. It’s boring otherwise though. Give me a real city any day of the week.” 

“First of all,” said Nate, prompting Gabe to groan again while Danny snickered, “the best hockey players in the world come from Nova Scotia. Secondly, it’s a great place to escape to when you want to get away from people. And thirdly, it has nice beaches!”

“The best hockey players in the world come from Nova Scotia,” Claude repeated, voice pitched high and mocking. He scoffed afterwards. “Way to toot your own horn, MacKinnon. And Ovechkin is better than Crosby anyways.”

Jonny heard Sidney let out a soft sigh above him. 

“Giroux's my favorite,” said Ovi from the far right of the line of banana’s. “Much better than Crosby.” 

“Hey! Thanks, Ovi!”

“Eh,” said Ryan, down on the left. “I’m more of a Tavares guy personally.” 

“Hey,” snapped Flower from somewhere in the middle. “No flirting with your significant others when ours aren’t here.”

 

_ Sidney sat alone in the diary room. He let out a soft sigh. “I swear Claude actually likes me a lot. He just likes to make fun of me.” _

* * *

“Dylan,” Mitch called out.

“What Mitch?” Dylan asked.

The bananas they had chosen were right next to each other and they’d positioned themselves so they could see each other.

Mitch grinned, smile wide and toothy, “I’m a banana!”

“No,” Dylan said, voice firm. “Do not-”

“I’m a banana, I’m a banana, I’m a banana,” Mitch sung. He wiggled on the banana, moving side to side. Ryan was laughing under him, face pressed against the banana as his body shook. “Look at me move!” 

“Stop!” Dylan said. “Stop, stop, stop!”

“Dyls, come on,” John said. He bumped his head against Dylan’s thigh. “Don’t let him get to you.”

It was Kane who piped in with, “Yeah, yeah!”

“Oh my god,” Gallagher said. “Why do you even know that? You’re like forty.”

“I’m not even thirty!” Kane squeaked. 

Mitch ignored the argument happening around him, continuing to sing, “I’m a banana, I’m a banana, I’m a banana!”

“Look at me move!” shouted Mitch and Ryan at the same time 

 

_ Dylan sat in the diary room, his arms crossed and a glare on his face. _

_ “I hate that fucking song,” Dylan said. “But I’d rather listen to it than listen to Mitch gloat about beating me in the first competition./ _

* * *

“Tyler,” said Jamie, his voice clipped, “I swear to God if you move one more time...”

“I’ve got an itch, Benn.” Tyler whined, “I can’t just not move.”

“Which Benn?” asked Vladimir from his spot below Artemi. His partner laughed at the small attempt at a joke.

“You know,” said PK, cutting through the beginnings of Tyler’s and Jamie’s argument, “we’re going to have to come up with a way to tell the two of them apart.”

 

_ Jamie leaned back against the couch in the diary room, looking confused. “We don’t look that much alike and even if we did we have names? I don’t see why they need another way to tell us apart.” _

 

“Not really,” said Carey from above him. “I don’t talk to people from the Island, so I don’t need to differentiate between them.”

“I’ll remember that next time you want me to block a shot for you Price,” called Jordie.

“Like I need you to block shots for me.” Carey’s voice was dry and their banana rocked as PK laughed.

“I’ll remind you of that next time we score on you, Price,” called Tanger. “Defensemen are the most important players in the game.”

The was a chorus of approval from the house's resident defensemen.

Carey simply rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

Flower, however, didn’t have the same restraint.

“We’ve had this conversation before, Kris! Goaltending is the most important part,” said Flower, shaking his head in exasperation. “Without a goalie, everything is chaos.”

“Without forwards there wouldn’t be any need for goalies,” said Claude, voice matter-of-fact. “Besides, the forwards make things fun. You goalies don’t even get in fights.”

“Hey,” Flower said, clearly annoyed, “I’ve  _ tried _ . The stripes just won’t let me.”

“Excuses, excuses, Fleury.” Claude shook his head in disapproval. “Our rookies have had more fights than you.”

“That’s because your rookies are mean,” Geno said.  “All Flyers mean.”

“Oh go back to Shitsburgh, Malkin,” said Claude. There was no real malice in the words though.

“What’s wrong, Captain Orange?” asked Geno. “Sad your team not winning?”

Claude narrowed his eyes at Geno, “Watch it, Malkin! I’ll uninvite you from the wedding.”

“Can’t!” Geno said. “I’m best man.”

* * *

 

They’d just hit the two hour mark when Brendan felt his grip slipping. He didn’t even bother fighting it, instead letting himself slip off the banana and smack against the mat below.

“Brendan is out,” came from the loudspeaker. 

“Fucking really, Gally?” Alex said. He shifted so he could glare at Brendan as he rolled onto his knees and then stood up.

“Hand injury!” Brendan called, lifting the hand that had been broken by both Chara and Weber. “My grip is shit. It’s a miracle I managed to hold on for two hours.”

As Alex was yelling at Brendan, Nicky nudged Andre’s arm with the bottom of the foot. 

He spoke just loud enough for Andre to hear him, saying, “Gallagher has a point. How’s your hand feeling? I know it was a while ago but…”

“Not great,” Andre said. He had lifted his head so Nicky could see the grimace on his face. “It’s cramping and I’m probably not going to last until the end, but I can hold on for a while longer. It’s not going to be career ending or anything.”

Nicky shook his head. “No. Just drop now.”

“You sure?” Andre asked. 

“Yeah,” Nicky agreed with a small nod. “It’s the first HOH. We don’t want to win it anyway. Better to be underestimated than to get a target painted on our back as big as the one on Ovi’s.”

Andre looked at him for a moment. “Papa, you know sometimes I forget that you’re the evil mastermind behind everything.” 

As Andre dropped down onto the mat below them, Nicky lifted his head. His eyes caught Ovi’s. Noticing the wide smile on the Russian’s face, Nicky asked, “What?”

“Saw what you did,” Ovi said. 

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Nicky said. He kept his voice flat and didn't break eye contact. 

Ovi just laughed and shook his head. Instead of arguing, he remarked, “Nicky make good Papa.”

* * *

When Tyler shifted uncomfortably again, Jamie groaned. “Listen, if the itch is that bad than just fall off.”

Tyler went silent for a few moments before finally deciding that itch was just too much.  He was careful to twist to the other side so that when he fell backwards he wouldn’t catch Jamie and pull him off as well. Letting go, he fell back onto the mat.

“Tyler is out.” There were a few whoops of joy. “There are 29 Houseguests remaining.”

Despite how far they were into the competition, everyone just seemed to be growing more comfortable. Claude heckled Sidney in attempt to get him to drop, or at least get a reaction of some kind from him. Mitch decided to torture Dylan with the banana song again. This time John just sighed and kept out of the argument. Carey and Flower were talking about who the worst people to come up against in a shootout were.

“Sharpy,” sighed Patrick, adjusting his grip on slightly as he continued their conversation, “I get it, man. Dallas is nice and you’ve settled down there but like… Chicago man! Wouldn’t you rather be there with us?”

“Hey!” Tyler shouted from where he was sitting on the bench talking to Brendan about his tattoos. “Stop trying to poach our forwards, Kane! Sharpy’s happy in Dallas.”

“You got something to say to my teammates, Kaner, you come say it to me first!” called Jamie. “Control your boy, Toews.”

“I can’t be expected to babysit him all the time, Jamie. You should know this,” said Jonny. “Besides Sharpy played in Chicago for so long that he’s always going to be a Hawk at heart.”

Before the argument could go on, or Sharpy could stop it, there were two shouts surprise as Tom and Michael both fell of off their bananas. Everyone stopped their chatter, even Sidney pulled his head back, to stare at the surprised boys on the ground. 

Tom was glaring at Michael who simply smiled sheepishly, “Oops?”

" _Michael, tell them what happened,” Tom said._

_ The partners were sitting on the couch in the diary room together. Tom had his arms folded over his chest, looking at Michael with judgement in his eyes. There was a dark red mark on his forehead. Michael sat next to him, his clasped hands hanging between his legs. There was a vaguely shamed look on his face.  _

_ “I told Tom that I could scratch my calf with my foot.” _

_ “And what happened?” _

_ “I kicked you in the face,” Michael said. “And when you flailed, you caught my ankle.” _

* * *

After Wilson and Latta, a collection of other players dropped. A couple of the younger guys dropped - Mitch and Dylan and Skinner complaining about their arms feeling like jelly. Jamie fell when trying to readjust sent a sharp pain through his hip. Letang fell when Flower caught him in the shoulder with his foot, too weak from holding on for so long to resist the push. Demers went next and Kane shortly after him.

“Ah  _ p _ _ utain _ ,” Claude swore, the french falling smoothly from his lips. A second later he fell, back smacking against the mat.

“You okay, Claude?” Danny asked, looking down at his partner.

“I’m fine,” Claude said. When he was rolling to leave the area he caught sight of Sidney looking at him as well, a worried frown set on his lips. He repeated, “I’m fine. My wrists just aren’t the strongest thing in my body. You know that.”

When he approached the bench, rolling his wrists, Brendan asked, “Do you need an ice pack or something?”

Claude shook his head. “Nah. They’re better now, but you know how it is.”

“Surgery doesn’t exactly make everything as good as it was?” Brendan said.

“Exactly,” Claude agreed. “A few years earlier and I’d have kicked all of your asses though.”

Dylan snorted. “That’s what every old guy says.”

“One: I’m not that old so watch it,” Claude warned, pointing a finger at Dylan. “Two: You don’t get to talk about old people when Danny was  _ drafted  _ before you were born. You should’ve been able to outlast him and Sharp.”

“I’m four years younger than him!” Sharpy screeched.

“Your four years older than me,” Ovi commented.

“And I’ve got less gray hair than you,” Sharp said. “So fucking suck it.”

There was a moment of silence before Jonny said, “Maddie, Sadie, if your watching don’t copy your daddy.”

* * *

After Claude, PK lost his grip and took Carey down within him. Soon after they’d gone to the sidelines, Carey scowling and PK smiling, Nicky dropped from his own banana. Jordie went down after.

When John started complaining of leg pain, Ryan and John exchanged glances before both dropping. 

“Ryan,” Dylan grumbled, “where’s that Strome family competitiveness?” 

“Still lasted longer than you, idiot,” Ryan threw back at his brother, smirking at the twisted scowl on his face. Mitch thought it was hysterical, and burst out laughing. 

“Fuck you,” Dylan bit.

There was a small commotion when Ovi slipped from his position above Geno and clutched furiously at the banana. Flower and Brendan started chanting for him to fall, but Ovi managed to readjust his grip and hang on. 

“Anyways, even if I didn’t win,” Ryan said, “I outlasted you and that’s all that matters.”

With his arms folded over his chest grumpily, Dylan said, “Yeah. I would lasted longer too if I was as tiny as you.”

Ryan was unphased by the jab about his size. He knew he was the smallest in his family, he just didn’t care. He’d heard it all before. He’d been teased by his younger brothers since they shot past him. Even the announcers had brought it up before, when the Islanders were playing against Dylan’s or Matthew’s team.

John laughed. He glanced at the camera before ducking in to press a quick kiss against Ryan’s cheek. “I think you’re fine just the way you are.” 

“Gross! Get room!” shouted Geno. Having Geno shout so loudly and so suddenly caused Ovi to loosen his grip. As he was falling he lashed out, grabbing Geno’s ankle and dragging him down onto the mat with him.

 

_ Geno sat in the diary room. He looked into the camera, face completely stone cold, “Should have asked Sid to be partner.”/ _

* * *

MacKinnon went down next, something which had Sidney raising his head to chirp him. Hanifin dropped shortly after him. He collapsed down against the mat, resting there for a few minutes as he groaned about his body feeling like jelly. Danny dropped soon after with Sharp following after him. Sharp crowed about it for several minutes, teasing everyone who had dropped before him for calling him old when they couldn’t even last as long as a retired player. Landeskog went down next, followed shortly by Tarasenko.

When Panarin hit the mat, Ovechkin threw his hands up.

“Disowning all of you,” Ovechkin said. “You letting  _ Canadians  _ win!”

“I’m not Canadian!” Galchenyuk shouted. “Just because I play for them doesn’t mean I’m one of them!”

“Chuckie’s right,” Gallagher said. “He’s Russian like you, you know.”

“Fuck off, Gally! I’m not Russian!” Galchenyuk shouted. “I was born in  _ Wisconsin!  _ That’s arguably more American than Hanifin!”

“Excuse you,” Hanifin said. “I’m from Massachusetts! The midwest is pretty American, I’ll give you that. But you can’t get more American than any original colony!”

“Texas?” Tyler suggested. 

There was a moment before Hanifin said, “The south doesn’t count. They might as well be another country altogether.”

“Ugh,” Ovechkin said, wrinkling his nose. “World doesn’t need two Americas. One more than enough.”

* * *

It was down to Alex, Jonny and Sidney.

Claude was heckling Sidney, still trying to get a response out of him, while Kaner and Hanifin were cheering “USA! USA!” at the top of their lungs. Mitch and Dylan had started singing on O’ Canada in retaliation.

Jonny heard Sidney groan softly from above him, unamused by the steady supply of background noise.

Jonny let out a groan of his own as he felt his back twist. It’d been hurting for a while now but it had been getting steadily worse. It was approaching unbearable now.

“Sid,” called Jonny. He was afraid to touch him. Sidney had been so locked in, concentration unwavering, that Jonny worried that touching him to get his attention would mean he would fall. “My back is starting to get bad”

Jonny craned his head upwards to see Sidney’s face. Sidney’s lips were pursed tightly in thought.

“Drop off,” whispered Sidney. Jonny shook his head but Sidney was speaking again before he could argue. “It’s fine. I’m good. My legs went numb about an hour ago, but I think I can hang on a while. Worst comes to worst, I’ll make a deal with Galchenyuk for safety.”

Jonny sighed. He didn’t like losing, but he didn’t want to risk aggravating the old injury and he had faith in Sidney.

After a moment of thought, Jonny dropped down. His legs felt like mush as he laid on the mat, unmoving as overhead speaker announced his exit from the competition. There was cheering in the background, but it was nearly all but drowned out by the USA chants and the singing of the Canadian national anthem.

When he finally pushed himself up to his feet, Jonny made his over to the bench.

Kaner grinned at Jonny when he sat next to him. He wrapped his arm around Jonny, pulling him in tight and pressing a kiss to his temple.

The Russian’s had joined in cheering for Alex. Brendan had stopped making fun of Alex in order to cheer for his partner and boyfriend. A win for Alex was a win for him which meant a win for Canada.

* * *

Ten minutes later, more foam and chocolate was sprayed on Alex and Sidney.

Exhaustion was combining with the slippery surface and Alex was struggling to hold on. Sidney noticed.

“If you drop,” said Sidney, waiting for Alex to look him from his own banana before continuing, “Jonny and I won’t put you up this week.”

“How can I know for sure?” asked Alex.

“Don’t you dare drop off, Galchenyuk!” Claude yelled from his spot on the bench. “Don’t you dare let him win!”

“Trust Sid,” yelled Geno. He looked more than ready for the competition to be over. “He canadian symbol. Too nice to break promise.”

Alex thought for a second before he narrowed his eyes at Sidney, “You swear we’ll be safe?”

Sidney nodded again, waiting for Alex to agree.

Alex nodded then. “You’ve got a deal.”

And then he let go.

* * *

“How you feeling?” Jonny asked. He fell into step with Sidney as the group headed back into the house.

Sidney hummed before asking, “Have you ever been hit by Chara?” Jonny nodded. “Feels a bit like that, only there’s ten of him and he’s hit you from all directions.”

Jonny winced, sympathetic. “Ouch.”

“I’ll be fine in the morning,” Sidney dismissed with a small shrug.

They walked in silence for a few moments, the HOH medallions around their necks bouncing with each step.

As they were slipped into the house, Sidney asked, “How are we going to fit four grown men into one bed?”

“No fucking idea,” Jonny said. “But I’m not sleeping with all these other assholes when we’ve won a room of our own.”

“We’ll figure out how to make it work,” Sidney said. “Otherwise I’m pretty sure it’s going to be three months before I get to sleep with my fiancee again.”

“Well, I can’t blame him,” Jonny said. “I wouldn’t want to sleep in the Pens room anymore than I’d want to sleep in the Flyers room. They’re both obnoxious.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A]: Hello! Welcome to the single most self indulgent thing we have ever written. We just really liked the idea of the boys being competitive and snarky? And also who doesn’t love big brother drama. 
> 
> [A]: [This](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/af/ba/19/afba19a1869a79d38fba490f63382897.jpg%E2%80%9D) is the dress Julie is wearing in the introduction.
> 
> [A] Claude Giroux plays scrabble with his fiancee a lot, so even though they’re not together in this I used that for his and Danny’s introduction. Danny also made everyone writing this story feel really young because he was drafted before we were born. [S] Now there’s a moment to make you feel really really young 
> 
> [A] The competition used for HOH in this chapter is actually the first competition from season 13.
> 
> [A] [The](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LH5ay10RTGY)iconic youtube video referenced by Mitch and the other youngins. 
> 
> [A] Alex Galchenyuk is a [fucking](http://gomertime.tumblr.com/post/147123701739/galchenyuk-is-a-tank) [fucking](http://adaptinghoul.tumblr.com/post/103587145192) tank! He would give the boys a run for their money.


	2. Week One: Monday Night & Tuesday

 

_ Sidney and Jonny sat in the diary room leaned back against the couch. They looked like they’d gone five rounds with semi-truck but they were grinning nonetheless.  _

_ “Winning the first HOH competition feels awesome,” said Sidney. His arm slung over the back of the couch. “It’s always nice to take the first one. It gets you in the right mindset and makes it easier to keep giving 100% out there.”  _

_ Jonny looked close to laughter, “You know, you sound like you’re giving a hockey interview right?” _

_ Sidney just shrugged at him. _

 

Most of the houseguests were gathered in the main living areas. Most of the young guys were lying on the floor in the living room, complaining about how they still couldn’t feel the various limbs. Ovi was spending his time with them. Much to the other Russian’s amusement, he was apparently following through on his threat to disown them. 

“So when do we get the HOH room again?” Kaner asked. He was spread out on one of the couches with his head on Jonny’s lap.

Jonny looked down at Kaner. Raising his eyebrows, he asked,  “What do you mean  _ we _ ?” 

Kaner stared at him.

Jonny rolled his eyes, but let it go. “Yeah, okay. They’re supposed to call us in to get the key sometime tomorrow morning.

“Niiiice,” Kaner said. “It’ll be nice to sort of have our own room, and it’ll be way easier rotating four people out of a shower than 32 out of two showers.” 

Content with his question having been answered, Kaner let his eyes close. He found it easy to relax with his head in Jonny’s lap and Jonny’s fingers in his hair. He’d just let himself drift for a bit before they went to the bedroom. 

* * *

“I still can’t believe you’re going to sleep in the flyers room.” grumbled Sidney. He was perched on the counter next to the sink as Claude brushed his teeth. “It’s the summer, Claude. This is supposed to be  _ our time  _ to spend  _ together _ .”

Claude rolled his eyes as he spat into the sink. He rinsed his mouth out before saying, “If it’s bothering you that much just come sleep in the Flyers room with me.” 

Sidney glared at him. “And be blinded by all that obnoxious orange? No.” 

* * *

Tom threw himself onto the double bed that he’d claimed for himself and Latta. He flopped stomach down.

“I’m never leaving this bed again,” he said. His voice was muffled by the pillow he had his face shoved into. 

“You’re leaving that bed when we have the haves and have nots competition,” Michael said. 

Tom turned his head, pressing his cheek against the pillow. He watched as Michael grabbed their bags off his side of the bed, moving them down onto the floor.

“I think eating slop might be interesting,” Tom said. “Aren’t you curious as to what it tastes like?”

Michael hummed in thought. When he straightened up from moving their bags, he said, “I mean, yeah. But what about our diets? Eating that shit for a week would wreck our bodies.”

“It’s not like we’re going to be on it  _ every  _ week,” Tom answered. “We could probably gain the weight back next week.”

“So we don’t complain about it if we lose,” Michael decided. “But we don’t purposefully throw it either.”

Tom thought about this for a moment. He really did want to see what it tasted like, but he supposed Lats had a point. “Alright. Deal.”

“Deal,” Michael agreed. Tom watched as Michael squatted down, unzipping his bag to rummage around inside of it. “You are going to get up and brush your teeth later, right?”

“Probably,” Tom said. 

“Do it,” Michael said. “It’s one thing to make me deal with your horrid breath, it’s another to make Andre deal with it.”

“Andre?”

“He’s sleeping with us so we can give papa and pops the other bed,” Michael said. 

“Oh.” Tom wasn’t really that concerned with the idea of sharing a bed with Andre. There’d been plenty of movie nights and video game sessions back when they’d all shared an apartment that had ended up with them all in a heap. Usually on the couch, but sometimes on the floor or in one of their beds. He hadn’t been expecting to sleep with Michael anytime soon anyway. PR would kill him if they came out of this show with a sex tape. “Okay.”

* * *

“Has anyone seen Latta?” Jonny asked as he stepped into the living room.

He’d just come out of the shower so he was wearing nothing but a pair of loose red basketball shorts. He had a towel wrapped around his shoulders, but there was still water rolling down his chest. 

“He and Tom went to bed already,” Burakovsky said. He’d been lying on the couch, listening to Landeskog and Backstrom as they spoke in rapid Swedish. Jonny didn’t know whether he was waiting to go to sleep until his partner did or if he just enjoyed listening to people speak in his native language after months spent speaking english with the Capitals. “Why are you looking for him?”

“He’s sleeping in your guys room then?”

“Yeah?” Burakovsky said, sounding genuinely confused. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

“He plays for the Icehogs,” Jonny said. “He’s a Hawk.”

Backstrom laughed and when Jonny looked over at him he found the Swede looking more amused than he’d ever seen him look before. 

“Latta may play for the Icehogs, but he’s still one of us,” Backstrom said. 

Jonny looked at him for a moment. Then he said, “Green went to Detroit in 2015 and he still get away from you. Now Latta can’t get away either? It’s like you guys are a cult or something. No one escapes from you guys. 

“Not a cult,” Ovechkin called from where he was sitting in the kitchen. He’d been hanging around the younger players earlier, but as they left to sleep he’d drifted back towards the Russians. They’d dealt him into the card game they were playing. “A family.”

* * *

“I’m telling you, Dylan. You put the cheese on before you meat,” said Mitch as he demonstrated on his own sandwich. “Everyone knows that.”

“Oh my god, Marns,” Dylan said. He reached over to try and fix his boyfriend's sandwich, but his hands were slapped away. “No, you don’t. You put the meat on first, then the cheese, then the greens.”

Mitch rolled his eyes as he grabbed some lettuce and tomato. “You’re so fucking backwards, Stromer. Everyone else in your family is so normal and you’re so weird.”

“Ryan isn’t out here. No reason for you to be sucking up.” 

“It’s not sucking up if it’s the truth Dyls.” 

Dylan rolled his eyes and decided to change the subject. “Stop hogging the veggies, Mitch. Gimme.” 

Mitch rolled his eyes, but passed over the leafy greens for Dylan to place on his backwards sandwich. 

Mitch and Dylan continued to make their sandwich, constantly bumping into each other and attempting to fix the other sandwich building technique. 

Once they were finished, they sat on the counter to eat their food. 

They were quiet for a moment before Mitch broke the silence with a sigh. “Are we ever going to talk about it?” 

Dylan stiffened. Forcing himself to relax, he said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Mitch rolled eyes and set his plate aside to look at Dylan. “Yeah you do. Are we really not going to talk about this season? Are we just never going to mention it?” 

Dylan was staring right past Mitch, eyes locked on the staircase. He gave a shrug. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Yeah it does,” Mitch said,  “but I’m a patient man. If you don’t want to talk about now, or you don’t want to talk about it with me, that’s fine. But you can’t keep it bottled up inside either.”

Dylan was quiet for a moment before he let out a sigh. “It’s my fault, Mitch. If I’d done more for the team, they would’ve kept me up.”

“It is  _ not  _ your fault. You started slow, but you weren’t playing bad. You didn’t deserve to be sent back down,” Mitch said. He moved so he could wrap his arm his arm around Dylan and pull him close. “And I’m going to make it my personal mission to get you to believe that before the summer is done and I’ve won half a million of charity.” 

Dylan laughed, quietly. He leaned into Mitch’s side. “You’re hopeless.” 

“Yeah, well. So are you,” Mitch said. Laughing with Dylan, he said, “It’s part of why we work.” 

* * *

Flower threw his pillow across the room with a enough accuracy to smack Sidney right in the face. Sidney startled and his head whipped around to glare at him, while Flower just scowled at him.

“Your sulking is irritating,” said Flower. “Either go to the disgusting orange room or go to sleep.” 

“I’m not sleeping in the Flyers room.” Sidney scrunched his nose up in disgust. “And I’m not sulking. I just don’t understand why he won’t just sleep here.” 

“The same reason why you won’t sleep there,” said Tanger. He was already tucked into bed. There were three beds in the room. It was enough for each of the Pens to have their own once Sidney moved into the HOH room, but for tonight Tanger had opted to share with Flower. He had his arm thrown over his eyes, yawning and clearly ready to sleep. “Now can you stop sulking because your  fiancé is just as stubborn as you are and go the fuck to sleep.” 

Flower laughed. “Such a good book. Not for kids, but a good book.” 

Sidney narrowed his eyes at them. “You know, you’d never know I was the captain by the way you all treat me.” 

Flower winked at him. 

Sidney just threw his pillow back in return and laid down on the bed, waiting for Geno to come back from brushing his teeth and turn the lights off. Sidney huffed out a small breath. He wasn’t sulking. He was just annoyed that Claude wouldn’t sleep with him. 

He spent most of the year alone in bed by himself. He loved playing hockey, but summers were some of the best months in his year. It was uninterrupted time with Claude, waking up to him in the mornings and going to bed with him at night. And now it was summer and Claude was here, but down the hall in a different bed with  _ Danny _ instead of in bed with him. 

 

_ Sidney had his arms crossed over his chest and pout on his face. He refused to look at the camera directly, but stared straight at the door. “I’m not jealous that Claude’s sleeping with Danny and not me. I’m not.”  _

 

Geno opened the door then, slipping and shutting it quietly. He shut off the light, plunging the room into darkness. Sidney could hear the sound of him padding across the room, the rustling of the blankets, and creak of the bed as Geno fell into it. 

Sidney rolled finally and burrowing deeper in the mattress  trying his best to fall asleep. 

* * *

“Sharpy, is it true you make legendary pancakes?”

Patrick had been sitting at the counter in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal and enjoying the fact that most of the loud guys were still asleep, when he heard the question. Looking up from the book he’d been reading, there was never enough time to catch up on everything he wanted to read between playing during the season and spending time with his girls in the summer so he’d shoved a collection of books into his bag specifically for the slow times, he found Brendan Gallagher approaching him. 

He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of black pajama pants with a Captain America shield over the pocket. 

Sharpy was kind of offended that someone who had worn a Canadian jersey before was wearing Captain America sweatpants. More than that though, he was just kind of impressed that the kid was up so early. 

_ Jonny  _ wasn’t even up yet. 

Though some of that might have had to do with the amount of energy Jonny had expended making it so far in the competition the night before. 

“My girl’s like them,” Patrick said. 

“Jordie says their legendary,” Gallagher said. “The best pancakes he’s ever had.”

“That’s nice of him to say.” Patrick had a sneaking suspicion that he knew where this was going. “Would you like me to make them for you?”

Gallagher’s lips spread in a bright smile. Patrick realized why the kid had so many female fans. He’d never noticed it when Gallagher smiled at him on the ice, too irritated by the fact that he was reacting to chirps with smiles, but the boy had a nice smile. He wasn’t the most traditionally attractive person, but when he smiled it was a bit like looking at the sun. 

“Yes, please,” Gallagher said. 

“As long as we have what I need in the kitchen,” Patrick agreed. Marking his place in his book, he pushed himself off the stool he’d been sitting on. “You want me to wait on your boyfriend?”

“Nah,” Gallagher said. He shuffled over to the counter, lifting himself onto one of the stools. “Chucky won’t be up for ages. He’s not a morning person.”

“And you are?”

“Not particularly,” Gallagher said. “But I usually wake up before noon, so I’m already better than he is.”

* * *

When Danny and Claude wandered into the kitchen, Brendan was already on his second plate of pancakes and while Sharpy was busy cooking the rest of the batter. Claude’s hair was still rumpled from sleep, but Danny’s had been tamed. They both were dressed in basketball shorts and Flyers t-shirts.

“Pancakes?” Claude said, taking the seat at the end of the bar. 

Sharpy smiled and jerked his head towards Brendan. “The kid practically begged me. How could I say no to that?” 

Brendan looked up from his pancakes. “I didn’t  _ beg.   _ I mentioned hearing about them and you offered.”

Claude laughed at them as he reached for the plate that Sharpy had been stacking pancakes on. He pulled some onto a plate for himself and drizzled syrup on them. “Is anyone else awake or is it just us?” 

Sharpy flipped a pancake as he answered, “I saw Malkin stumble into the bathroom a little while ago. But then him it’s just us, Backstrom, and Landeskog who are outside.”

Claude raised and eyebrow while he chewed. He swallowed before asking, “No Sid?” 

Sharpy shook his head as he added more batter onto the skillet. “Not that I’ve seen, but when Malkin was out earlier I asked him how he slept. I got a mumbled of words, but it sounded a lot like ‘better than Sid.’”

Claude pursed his lips and stabbed another bit of pancake. “Well, it’s probably good that he’s going to sleep in then.” 

“So how are planning on sleeping without him?”Brendan said. He looked honestly curious to the answer. “I hate sleeping without Alex. It drives me crazy, but I guess it’s rarer for us since we’re in the same city and all.” 

“I mean we’re used to it yeah, but that doesn’t mean it sucks any less,” said Claude, sighing and setting his fork down. He grabbed it again a moment later, determination setting in his features. “But there isn’t any way I’m sleeping in a Pens themed room.” 

“They’re both pretty stubborn, but I’d guess that Sidney’s going to crack first,” Danny piped in. Shrugging, he added, “Luckily for all of us, this issue won’t come up again for a least a week.” 

Claude nodded, pointing his fork in Danny’s direction. “True.”

* * *

“Sidney and Jonathan, please report to the diary room.”

Jonny groaned as the voice cut through the silence in the bedroom. 

He’d been awake for a while, but he hadn’t bothered to get up. He was a huge advocate of healthy living and part of that was having a steady sleep schedule. But after months of waking up early to work out or attend morning practice, he was more than happy to spend a little while in bed enjoying the warmth of the blankets and Patrick draped over his chest. 

“Go,” Patrick said, voice rough with sleep. Jonny had felt him shifting around as he woke up, but Patrick hadn’t quite reached the point where he was ready to get up either. “Get away before they say it again.”

“Maybe they’re not calling me,” Jonny said, though he knew it wasn’t true. “Maybe they’re looking for Tavares.”

Patrick snorted. “Yeah. I’m sure they’re calling for Tavares and your partner.”

Jonny was quiet for a moment before he let out a soft sigh. “I don’t wanna get up though. Once I stand up, I’m going to be awake.”

“Well, wake up,” Patrick said. Rolling off of Jonny’s chest, he kicked his heel against Jonny’s calf. “Now go grab our HOH key.”

Jonny rolled out of the bed. 

Once he was standing up he twisted to crack his back before leaning over. He pressed a kiss against Patrick’s lips. When he pulled back, he said, “Not your HOH room.”

“Still gonna sleep in it,” Patrick said. He lifted up, chasing Jonny’s lips for a second kiss. 

Before Jonny could respond, there was a loud groan from the other side of the room. Panarin lifted his head off of his pillow to say, “Both of you shut up. Am sleeping over here!”

“Wake up,” Jonny said. Straightening up, he aimed a kick at the end of the bed Panarin and Tarasenko were sharing. He felt a little bad about dragging Tarasenko into this, but if he was going to be sleeping with them he was going to have to deal with it. “Rookies need consistent schedules.”

Panarin’s only response was to lift his hand, middle finger sticking up. “Fuck off, Jonny.”

* * *

Responding to the overhead speaker calling for him, Sidney rolled himself out of bed despite having only gone to sleep a few hours before. He was dead on his feet as he reached over, grabbing a black tee-shirt out of his bag.

When he left his room, Sidney found Jonny was coming out of his own at the same. Thankfully, he looked a little more awake then Sidney.

Jonny raised an eyebrow when he spotted him. “Nice shirt.” 

Sidney was too tired to care what he meant by that. Instead of addressing it, he gave Jonny a grunt of acknowledgement as they made their way down the hall to the diary room. He really hoped this was the HOH key and not like some twist because Sidney was too tired to deal with anything else. He just wanted access to a bigger, more comfortable bed that he could sleep with Claude in. 

The diary room was down the hall on the other side of the living room. It was medium sized room with light blue walls and a love seat. The only other thing in the room was camera at the front and a TV for communications with Julie. On the wall behind the loveseat were two hooks with two small golden keys on chains.  

“Do you think they know that there’s going to four for us?” asked Jonny as he grabbed the chains off of the wall. “I don’t think we’ll all fit in just a regular king, do you?” 

“I dunno. Do you think we could take a mattress upstairs?” asked Sidney, already planning out how best to maneuver a mattress up the spiral stairs. 

Jonny thought for a second as he handed Sidney his own key. “Doesn't hurt to try. Worse comes to worse it doesn’t work.” 

Sidney nodded and then jerked his head towards the door.  “Ready for the chaos?” 

Jonny laughed. “Let’s go for it.” 

Jonny led the way out of the Diary Room. 

He was exhausted, but Sidney really was excited see the room. It would be nice to have his own space. He loved the boys, but there was nothing appealing about three months dealing with Flower’s shenanigans, which would eventually end becoming Flower and Tanger and Geno’s shenanigans, with being able to retreat. 

There was also the benefit of getting to sleep with Claude. Even if they had to share the bed with Jonny and Kane. He wasn’t that concerned about it, though. Plenty of people had shared the HOH bed in the show and looked perfectly comfortable with it. 

“Alright, guys,” Jonny called as he pushed the door leading to the main house open. “Who want’s to see our HOH room?”

There was excited shouting for kitchen as everyone in the main area moved around to get up. 

Claude pushed away from the from bar and met Sidney halfway, kissing him on the cheek before pulling him into a hug. 

He whispered in Sidney’s ear, “Nice shirt, but you didn’t have to steal it. You could have just asked me for it.” 

Sidney pulled back, looking at Claude quizzically before looking down and groaning in horror at the large orange Flyers emblem in the middle of his shirt. 

“I must have thrown it in my bag thinking it was a Penguins shirt,” said Sidney. He leaned his head onto Claude’s shoulder, dejected by his own stupidity but still seeking the comfort that his boyfriend provided. Claude just laughed and stroked his hair before stepping back.

Most of the houseguests who hadn’t gotten up yet were emerging from their rooms, roused by the noise outside the doors. When it seemed like everyone who was going to come out was out, Jonny lead the way up to the room. 

Reaching the door first, he slotted the key into the lock before pushing the door open.

Like the rest of the house, the HOH room was much more muted than it had been in previous seasons. Most of the furniture was made with silvers and blacks and whites. The giant circular bed, easily big enough to fit four people, had a dark black blanket over it. The blanket was covered in looping yellow and white circles. The pillows were a mixture of black and yellow. The couch, however, had a red throw blanket and smaller red pillows on it. 

“It looks nice,” Sidney remarked as he stepped inside after Jonny. 

“Yeah,” Jonny agreed. 

The rest of the house fell in behind them, oohing and aahing at the room. 

“Aw, baby Sid so cute.” Sidney had been focused on the bed, considering flopping down onto it and going right back to sleep, but at Ovechkin’s words he looked up to find the Russian hovering by the table were the care packages were. He was crouched down, peering at the photos of Jonny and Sidney, and their families, that were gathered on the table. “So little.”

“Go away,” Sidney said. 

Ovechkin looked over his shoulder. “It compliment Sidney. Know you not used to getting those, but they a good thing.”

“Go. Away,” Sidney repeated. He was far too tired to deal with this right now. “I want to take a nap.”

“You’re not even going to read your letter?” Sharpy asked. 

Sidney figured the idea of not immediately wanting to read it was probably a war crime as far as someone with a kid was concerned, but Sidney didn’t have any and he wasn’t particularly concerned with what his parents or sister had to say. He’d seen them the day before he’d flown out for the show since he and Claude had a barbecue with both of their families. Even if he hadn’t just seen them, being away from them for this wasn’t any different than being away from them during the season. 

“Nope,” Sidney said. Claude was still standing next to him, so he reached and grabbed his wrist. “I am going to take a nap with my fiancee and try to sleep for more than three hours.”

* * *

Everyone besides Sidney and Claude was shepherded out the HOH room by an understanding Jonny. Fleury and Letang went back outside to mess around, dragging a tired looking Geno with them. Ovi had decided he was hungry and that hunger meant he had to teach Wilson and Latta how to some traditional Russian dishes. Then Andre had gotten excited and decided he wanted to learn too. Nicky rather grudgingly decided that someone needed to supervise. Jordie and Jason had gotten pulled into a hot tub dip with Tyler.

Mitch and Dylan dragged Vladimir, Ryan, and John into a rather fierce game of twister. Artemi was the official wheel spinner since Jonny didn’t want him pulling anything. He’d been tempted to argue, but ultimately Captain's orders had prevailed. Brendan and Alex waited for the current game of Twister to end so they could join.

The game probably wasn’t going to last much longer. Mitch was a competitive motherfucker, but in the moment he cared more about trying to take Dylan out than trying to win himself. He was currently using his hair to dry and get Dylan to sneeze, bumping his head up so the soft strands dusted under Dylan’s nose. 

Dylan seemed to have adapted a strategy against sneezing: scowling at the wall instead of paying attention his boyfriend. John and Ryan were playing much a nicer game mumbling chirps at each other and than laughing under their breath rather than trying to sabotage.

“Honestly, Tarasenko, how are you not bothered by this?” asked Kaner, jerking his head towards Dylan and Mitch. He had his arms spread wide along the back of the couch. 

“10 year old,” said Vladimir. Twisting his body so he could see Kaner through the small gap between his arm and Ryan’s leg, he smiled. “With 10 year old friends. They get much worse than this.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Kaner agreed, nodding a bit. “Your son plays hockey right? They must be excited to see you at practices.” 

Vladimir smiled again. “Always telling Mark I’m cool. He not always agree.” 

“To be far Sadie and Maddie don’t always think I’m cool and I’m just the cool Uncle,” Kaner said. 

Sharpy knocked into Kaner, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist as he made his way from the bathroom to the Hawks bedroom. “Kaner please. My girls’ never thought you were cool. They’ve got better taste than that.” 

Kaner winced, putting his hand over his heart. “ Ouch, Sharpy. You wound me.” 

Sharpy was still laughing as he left the room. 

Sharpy had just disappeared into the room when Mitch succeeded in making Dylan sneeze, the kind of whole body sneeze that made his entire body jerk. The jerk caused pushed shoulder into Mitch stomach and a foot to knock back into Ryan’s elbow. All three of them fell down.

“Fuck you,Mitchell,” Dylan said, shoving his boyfriend to the side and scowling.

“Please,” scoffed Mitch, rolling over to lay on his side so he could grin and fluttered his eyelashes at Dylan. “You looooove me.” 

“Ew,” said Brendan, drawing attention back to himself, “Enough of the gross stuff. Let’s start the next game so I can kick Chucky’s ass.” 

Alex snorted and shoved Brendan over before moving to take his place by the Twister mat. 

* * *

“That  pirozhki I smell?” Tarasenko asked as he entered the kitchen. He’d stopped playing a Twister a while ago. He wasn’t that much older than everyone else playing, but between hockey and his sons his body had endured enough pain without him subjecting it to more. He’d watched the others for a while, but eventually the smell in the kitchen had drawn his attention.

“Yeah,” Ovi said. “Took the boys a while to figure it out, but we got it.”

“They taste good?” he asked. He’d gotten to spend some time at home, between the end of the hockey season and the beginning of the show, but not nearly enough for his mother to make him all of the things he loved. He and Yana did their best at home, wanting to share their culture with their boys when they were so far away from Russia, but it was hard. He was gone often and the boys were a handful. 

“They’re not bad,” Backstrom said. 

Tarasenko had been looking at the pirozhki lined up on the island, but now he looked up. Backstrom was sitting on the other side of the islander with Burakovsky, both of them holding pirozhki’s in their hand. 

“You’re not Russian,” Tarasenko pointed out. 

“No,” Backstrom said. “But I’ve been to Russia for more than just a visit. I lived there for the lockout, ate a lot of Russian food.”

“Is true,” Ovi added. “Mama thought Nicky was too skinny.”

Backstrom snorted. “Your entire family thinks I’m too skinny.”

“Maybe they have a point than, papa,” Burakovsky said. 

“Shut up,” Latta said, amusement in his voice. “You’re more of a twig than papa is.”

“Not my fault I take after him. We can’t all be as big as pops.”

“Please stop,” Backstrom said, voice exasperated. Despite his tone, he didn’t sound incredibly upset with the situation. 

Tarasenko reached out, swiping one of the pirozhki from the counter. Afterwards he leaned against the counter, settling himself in to watch the family around them.

In the absence of his actual children, he didn’t mind watching Ovechkin and Backstrom with theirs. Afterall, Wilson, Latta, and Burakovsky provided the same amount of entertainment as his toddler did. 

* * *

Alex laid on the couch with his legs stretched out in front of him. Brendan was in between his legs, lying on his stomach with his chin on Alex’s chest as he played with his fingers. He was quiet which was unusual enough that Alex decided to wait just a little bit before he asked about it. As much as Alex might pretend that Brendan was his  _ least _ favorite person in the world, he actually was one of Alex’s favorites.

Alex wasn’t sure how long they’d been sitting like that or if he’d drifted off, but suddenly Brendan was prodding at his arm. 

“Hey, Chucky,” he said, prodding him again. “I want to ask you something.”  

Alex looked at him but didn’t say anything, choosing instead to wait for Brendan.  

Brendan closed his eyes and bit his lip. He exhaled then and opened his eyes. There was a soft expression on his face. Like one he’d worn when he’d told Alex yes to their first date. Like time when he’d blurted out that he loved Alex after he’d scored that OT winner. 

“My lease is up at the end of August and I know yours is already up,” Brendan said speaking slowly like he wanted to make sure Alex understood his words. “I thought maybe we could find a place together.” 

Alex stared at him. 

It felt like this was supposed to be big, but Alex and Brendan spent nearly all their time together. They shuffled between each other’s apartments, really only spending nights apart when one of them had friends or family visiting. 

Living together wouldn’t be that different. They’d just finally get rid of Brendan’s disgusting yellow couch. They’d just finally get rid of Alex’s shitty TV. They would finally get a bed that they would be comfortable for both of them instead of constantly complaining about each other’s mattresses.

Brendan nudged him. “Chucky? Alex? Are you going to say anything at all? I’ll even take a ‘That’s fucking stupid Gally.’”

Alex laughed and leaned over to kiss Brendan. He felt it as Brendan’s body relaxed, comforted with the show of affection, before pulling back. “Sure, Gally. We can find a place. Just don’t bring your couch to the new place.”

“Fuck off my couch, man,” Brendan said, sitting up and shoving Alex away. He was smiling brightly as he did. “You know you love it. We’ve made some great memories on that couch.”  

* * *

Jamie was lying in the hammock with his eyes closed and his hands resting on his stomach. He wasn’t particularly tired, but there wasn’t exactly a whole lot to do in the house. Usually just lying around made him feel a little lazy, but they were still in the early days of the post season when everyone was craving a little rest for their sore bodies.

“Hey.” The word was accompanied by someone flopping themselves over Jamie’s stomach, pushing the hammock as they did so. “What are you doing over here all by yourself?”

Opening his eyes, Jamie found PK was draped over him. He had his feet planted on the ground, leaned onto the front of his feet. 

“Nothing,” Jamie answered. “What are you doing over here?”

“Checking up on my favorite teammate.”

“We haven’t played on the same team since the Olympics in 2014,” Jamie pointed out. 

“Teammates are teammates,” PK said. He shifted onto the balls of his feet, pulling the hammock in the other direction. Jamie wanted to protest on principle, but the rocking motion that PK set up was actually kind of soothing. 

“That make being traded easier?” Jamie hadn’t meant it rudely, but he winced as soon as it came out of his mouth. He knew that the Habs-Nashville trade was a sore spot. “Sorry. That was rude.”

“It’s okay,” PK said with a slight shrug. “Leaving Montreal sucked, but I like Nashville. The guys aren’t, you know, my guys, but I like them. I had fun with them. I’m sure we’ll get close over the next couple of years.” He smiled at Jamie, showing the bright toothy grin that Jamie was convinced could cure cancer. “Plus, Fisher introduced me to Carrie Underwood! I love Patches and Katia, but neither of them have a grammy.”

“Crosby has an Emmy,” Jamie remembered. 

“Crosby starred in a documentary about himself. He didn’t sing Before He Cheats,” PK said. His grin spread wider, going mischievous at the corners. “Right now, he’s probably slow dancing with a bleached-blond tramp and she’s probably getting frisky…” 

Jamie should’ve seen it coming but when Tyler, Jordie, and Jason who were sitting in the hot tub all started belting the song along with him, he still felt a little jolt of surprise. 

* * *

Jonny scowled at Latta from across the table. Latta seemed unperturbed by the scowl on Jonny face, which Jonny thought said a lot about Ovechkin given how most people shrinked under Jonny’s glares.

“I’m just saying,” Jonny said, “not only is our room cooler than the Capitals room, but you could get to know your future teammates.” 

Latta just sighed, taking a sip of soda. Jonny resisted to urge to lecture him on the horrors of  _ diet coke _ and instead waited for him to speak. 

“Listen,” Latta started, “I spend most of my time in Rockford and Tom spends most of his time in DC. We rarely get to see each other. So even if I wanted too to sleep in the Hawks room with you guys, which I’m sorry but I really don’t want to, I wouldn’t because I’d rather spend as much time with him as I can when we do see each other. That includes any nights we can spend together.”

Jonny narrowed his eyes at him. “Once a week?” 

Latta laughed. He shook his head, “No can do.” 

Jonny sighed then. “How about once every two weeks?” 

Latta just shook his head taking another drink. 

“Nope.” 

Before Jonny could answer Wilson came sauntering into the kitchen. He narrowed his eyes at the two of them before walking over and tossing an arm around Latta’s shoulders. 

“Are you trying to steal him from us, Toews?” asked Wilson, eyes darting between the two of them. 

Latta laughed at this, leaning back so he could tuck himself further into Wilson’s arm. “He’s not trying to steal me. He’s trying to get me to bond with my future teammates.”  

“He doesn’t need new teammates,” Wilson said, a sharp bite in the words. “We’re going to get him back.” 

Before Jonny or Latta could say anything, Patrick interrupted them, “Good luck, Wilson. I’ve been trying for two season to get Sharpy back. If you find something that works, let me know.” 

Wilson perked up then. “Oh! What have you tried.” 

Jonny sighed then. Latta met his eyes, stifling a laugh. He would have interrupted them, but Patrick making friends with Latta’s boyfriend could be useful as far as team bonding went.

* * *

Jeff was sitting at the edge of the pool, his legs in the water while he leaned back with his weight braced on his palms. It was late afternoon and the sun was beating down on his pale skin. He was used to springs in North Carolina, so the heat here in California was a bit more than he was used to.

“Are you just going to sit here?”

Jeff smiled as he watched Noah swim towards him. The pool in the backyard wasn’t very big, but it was deceptively deep. Enough for them to swim in comfortably, though not deep enough for any of them to struggle with touching the bottom. Even Marner and Kane could stand in it and only be around their shoulders. 

“Maybe,” Skinner said with a shrug. “Got a problem with that?”

“Not really,” Noah said. When Noah reached him, he set his chin on the concrete between Jeff’s knees. Jeff widened his stance and leaned back a bit further so he could get a good look at Noah’s face. He’d dipped under the water at some point, flattening his hair. Water rolled down his face. “I just figured that given the way you were complaining about the heat, you’d wanna get in and cool off.”

“I’m pretty cool just sitting here,” Jeff said. He kicked his legs, not enough to splash Noah but enough to move the water around him. 

“Okay.” Noah reached out, catching Jeff’s ankles in his hands. He swam a little ways back so he could straighten Jeff’s legs out, closing them in front of him. Jeff watched him wearily, expecting a sharp tug to send him into the water. It didn’t come, instead Noah leaned his chest against the bottoms of Jeff’s feet and hooked his chin over his toes. “How are you feeling about the competition? After the first HOH?”

“Not bad,”Jeff answered. “We didn’t come last, but we weren’t first either. I’d have liked to do better, but I think it’s good that we didn’t put a target on our back.”

“Yeah,” Noah agreed. The movement had Jeff’s toes, tucked under his chin, being waggled which startled a giggle out of him. Noah smiled at him briefly before continuing, “Galchenyuk was pretty surprising.”

Jeff shook his head. “Disagree. Galchenyuk built a lot of muscle over his rookie summer. He obviously has a pretty intense workout routine.”

“True,” Noah said. He pressed his together, humming a bit as he looked at Jeff. “You feeling okay about tomorrow’s competition?”

“Yeah,” Jeff said with a small nod. “I don’t think we’ll be have nots at least.”

* * *

Sidney woke up to an amazing warm, weight around his middle. He blinked, trying to push away the lingering tiredness before giving it to it. He shifted backwards, enjoying the warm press of Claude’s chest against his back.

Claude sleeping in a different room really wasn’t going to work this summer. Sidney couldn’t imagine spending his summer without this.  

The best outcome would be Claude getting over it and coming to sleep with him the Penguins room, but the chances of that happening were slim. Maybe he and Jonny could just win every other HOH competition. That way Sidney would only have to spend every other week with Claude. It wasn’t ideal, but it might be doable.

“You’re thinking too hard, Sid,” came a murmur from behind him. Claude tightened his arm around Sidney’s middle. “You’re going to break your brain.” 

Sidney wrinkled his nose. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Claude laughed, but didn’t push Sidney. Instead, he said, “So, am I safe this week? Or are you and Tazer gonna put me and Danny on the block.” 

“We haven’t really talked about it yet,” Sidney said. He smiled, amused, but since his back was turned to Claude his fianc é couldn’t see it. “But I suppose you’re my biggest threat, seeing as you’ve made it pretty clear you want me out. And I’ve already delayed your plans a week…” 

“But if you get rid me,” Claude said, trailing his lips along the shell of Sidney’s ear, causing him to shiver, “you’d have to spend you’re HOH nights with no one but Kaner and Tazer. That doesn’t sound very fun to me.”

“Mmm, but Jonny probably doesn’t hog the covers,” said Sidney, his lips spread in a smile as he poked fun at Claude. 

“And who exactly wrapped themselves to me at night huh? Even if I do steal the comforter, which I don’t, you’re so close to me that you’d be underneath regardless.” 

“Wrapped myself around you?” Sidney said, incredulity clear in his voice. “Who exactly is spooning who Giroux?” 

Claude was quiet for a moment so Sidney assumed that he had won the argument. 

However, the next moment Claude used the arm wrapped around Sidney to roll him onto his back and settled his weight on Sidney’s thighs. Sidney blinked in surprise, staring up at Claude as he tried to process. Claude just smirked down at him. 

“What was the question again?” Claude asked, still smirking.

Sidney opened his mouth to answer, but apparently Claude didn’t care to hear actually hear an answer because he leaned down and kissed Sidney.

_ Well played Giroux,  _ Sidney thought. _ Well played. _

* * *

“Hey! Look who’s up,” Flower called when he spotted Sidney and Claude coming out of the HOH room. He was sitting on the floor with Tanger, the two of them playing cards with a group of others.

“About time,” Kane said. He was sitting on the floor across from Flower. Jonny sat on the couch behind him with his knees open so Kane could wedge himself between them. Jonny wasn’t playing with them though, choosing instead to read a book he’d brought with him. “It’s going to be dark out soon, you know.”

“I didn’t sleep last night,” Sidney pointed out. “Only makes sense that I’d sleep all day instead.”

“Well, don’t get used to it,” Jonny said. He looked away from his book, turning to look over his shoulder at Sidney. “We’re going to be in trouble if you flip your schedule like that and end up tired during one of our competitions.”

“It’ll be fine,” Sidney dismissed. “I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“Are you going to be able to sleep tonight?” Jonny asked. “We have the Have and Have Not competition tomorrow. We can’t be on slop, Sid. It’s not nutritious. I don’t think there’s any vegetables in it.”

“God forbid Jonny go a week without eating a carrot,” Kane said, rolling his eyes. “Letang, got a four?”

“Go fish,” Tanger responded. 

“Fuck off,” Jonny said, bumping his knee sharply against Kane’s side. “It’s not bad to stick to the diets our nutritionists give us.”

Kane snorted, “If your planned diet actually looks the way you eat than our nutritionists hate you.”

“Or she likes me more than you and actually wants me to live past thirty five,” Jonny answered. 

“I’ll be fine,” Sidney cut in as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “I’m still exhausted. It won’t be that hard to go to sleep in a few hours.”

“More importantly,” Claude said, “I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. There anything to eat?”

“Ovi made some Russian thing earlier. They tasted pretty great,” Flower said. “Tanger, got any nines?” Tanger took one of the cards from his deck, holding it out for Flower to take. When the pair had been set down on the table in front of him, he asked, “Kane any threes?”

“Go fish.”

As he reached forward to draw a card, Flower added, “That was awhile ago though. I wouldn’t object if you wanted to make dinner for the lot of us.”

Sidney snorted. “If Claude makes dinner, it’s just going to be grilled cheese.”

“I could go for a grilled cheese actually,” Tanger piped in. “Catherine tries to keep Alex’s diet pretty health so I haven’t had one in a while.”

“Is that what you do when your wife is away?” Sidney asked. “Feed your child food you know he’s not supposed to have?”

“Sidney,” Flower said, looking up from his cards. “Giving your kid things they aren’t supposed to have is exactly what you're supposed to do when your spouse is away.”

“It’s a bit different when you're away all the time like we are,” Tanger said. “But the principle is the same.”

“You’re both terrible,” Sidney said. “And I have no idea why your amazing wives married you.”

Flower just shook his head. “You’ll get it when you have one of your own.”

Sidney ignored him “If Claude’s making grilled cheese, Jonny, do you want to help me cut up some vegetables and fruit for a salad?” 

Tanger groaned. “Sid, come on. Why did you have to ruin the dinner with a salad?” 

“Yes,” Jonny answered for him. Standing up, added, “We’re professional athletes. We’re not trashing out diets just because it’s summer.”

“Isn’t that what summer is for?” Kane mused, but let Jonny pull him to his feet so he could help.

The game of go fish was but temporarily on hold. Tanger and Flower corralled everyone outside for a game of kickball. Claude had agreed to make dinner for the entire house, but he wasn’t going to deal with their shit while he did it. 

The four of them in the kitchen worked  quietly for a few minutes before the silence was broken by Jonny and Kaner bickering over who should cut what and how big they should be. Claude was content to just let them go at his as he concentrated on the sandwich on the stove, but Sidney was not. 

“Jonny, you cut the vegetables,” Sidney interjected, “Kaner, you can cut the fruits. Cut them however you want and don’t bother each other about it. It’s probably is a good idea to have small bowls of some of the vegetables so that everyone can make their own salad so no one is really going to notice the sizes.”

“Sidney,” Claude said, a stray thought crossing his mind as he flipped a grilled cheese over. “Who did we pick for our backup cater again?” 

“Mmm,” Sidney hummed. Claude glanced over at him to see his head tilted to the side in thought. “That little place in Philly. You know, the one that did the food for the charity thing at the children's hospital. You really liked them.”

“Diane and Daughters. Right. I’m just wondering if we should have made them our first choice instead of our second.” 

Sidney shrugged. “I was wondering the same thing before we left, but we both agreed that Kathryn's did better meat and since we decided to go with the chicken and steak for the entree…” 

Kaner snorted. “Jonny, I want you to promise me if we ever get married we won’t be so basic with the food.”

Claude laughed. “You won’t be saying once you’ve had the steak, Kane. Trust me.”

* * *

“Giroux makes some really good grilled cheese,” Mitch said, flopping back onto the bed he and Dylan had claimed. They were the only people from their teams so rather than having a room themed for them there was a room that was a vaguely horrifying mix of Avalanche, Islanders, Coyotes, and Maple Leaf colors that they shared with John, Ryan, Landeskog, and MacKinnon. “TK told me it was good, but I thought he was exaggerating.”

“I can’t believe Crosby made me eat a salad with a grilled cheese,” Dylan complained. He climbed onto the bed on his knees, one between Mitch’s legs and the other to the side. He flopped down on top of Mitch. They were both physically affectionate people so Mitch wasn’t too surprised by it. “It’s grilled cheese. You aren’t supposed to eat with vegetables.”

“Tomatoes are vegetables,” Mitch pointed out. He wrapped an arm around Dylan’s back, keeping his boyfriend close. He tucked his face into Dylan’s neck, rubbing his nose against the soft skin there. “And grilled cheese should always be eaten with tomato soup.”

“True,” Dylan agreed. He hummed quietly as Mitch placed a kiss against his neck. “Sleepy?”

“A bit,” Mitch admitted. “I’m excited to play the game, but I’m not used to being cooped up like this.”

“I know,” Dylan said. He shifted, pushing himself further into Mitch’s side. Mitch welcomed the contact, holding Dylan a little tighter and letting out contented hum. “We’ll figure out though. It was only the first day.”

“We’d better,” Mitch said. “Otherwise I’m going to go crazy in a week.”

Dylan snorted. “You can’t go crazy when you’re  _ already _ crazy.”

“Fuck off,” Mitch said, nipping at Dylan’s skin just hard enough to elicit a small squeak from him. 

* * *

Ryan let out a low moan as John, who currently straddled on his thighs, dug his thumbs into his back, massaging at one of the knots until it gave under his fingers.  

Ryan was pretty sure that when people talked about how good John Tavares’s hands are, this isn’t what they were talking about. 

There were moments, like this one though it was hardly exclusive to massages, where Ryan was really glad that John survived the horror his brothers had inflicted upon him when they’d first started dating. For all that Ryan complained about them, Dylan and Matt weren’t really that bad. It was just that they’d been young when he and John started dating. They’d been loud and asked intrusive questions with the tact of a toddler. 

He’d never forgot John’s face when Matt asked if when Crosby came to stay he got stuck in any of his furniture given how big his ass was.

“So,” Ryan said, his voice breathy. John was really great at massages and it was hard not to get loose when he was working on him. “What’s the game plan? Do you want to talk to Crosby and Toews? Or just stay off their radar all together. 

John was quiet for a few moments as he continued his assault. 

Ryan waited, used to this. John wasn’t one to rush his words. He was calmer, always thinking things through carefully. 

“Well talk to them tomorrow after the competition,” John said. He dug his hand little harder in Ryan’s shoulder, drawing out another breathy moan. “I’m sure they already have idea about who they’d like to evict this week, but that could change depending on how the competition goes tomorrow.”

Ryan hummed in agreement. “Hopefully it’s not us. Jonny and Sidney both like you and they I’m don’t really know enough about me for either of us to be that big of a target. At least, not at this point in the game.” 

“Maybe, but Jonny and Sid both know how much I like to compete,” John said. “And don’t sell yourself short, Ryan. You’re great player. Everyone knows enough about you to consider you a threat when they play us.”

Ryan couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He’d gotten compliments from John before, but it never fails to make butterflies erupt in the pit of his belly. Compliments from John still make his cheeks get a little hotter and always allow him to walk a little taller.  

Taking a breath and letting it out slowly, Ryan wiggled to get John to focus again. “How about we message now and flirt later okay?” 

John’s hands start back up. 

Ryan would bet everything he had that John was smiling when he said, “No idea what you’re talking about Stromie. I was trying to strategize. Maybe you should get your head out of the gutter. 

Ryan knew when to pick his battles, so he settled back in with a roll of his eyes. 

* * *

Artemi let out a soft sound as he collapsed backwards onto his bed. With his hands resting on his stomach, he groaned. Speaking russian since the two of them were the only ones in the room, his mother had raised him not to speak a language someone in the room didn’t understand  “I ate too much.”

“You had like seven sandwiches,” Vladimir said. “So yeah, I’d say you ate a bit too much.”

“Shh,” Artemi shushed, raising a hand to wave it around in the air. He had his eyes closed so he wasn’t sure quite where Vladimir was, but he was relatively certain he was somewhere off to the left. 

Vladimir laughed. “You eat more than my pre-teen. He can eat almost an entire pizza by himself after practices. You didn’t even do anything today.”

Artemi hummed quietly. After a moment, he peeked one eye open and asked, “You miss them?”

“The boys?” Artemi nodded. “Of course I miss them, and Yana too.”

Artemi hesitated for a moment before asking, “Wish you hadn’t come?”

He’d had a lot of choices when it came to finding someone to partner up with. He could’ve picked any of his friends on the Hawks or his teammates from international tournaments. He and Kaner had briefly tossed around the idea of doing it together, back when Kaner hadn’t been sure if Sharpy would be willing to spend a summer away from his girls. He’d considered asking Kucherov, convinced that when things got tough he could just use his murder-glare to win them a competition. But Vladimir was one of his closest friends and playing for different teams meant they didn’t spend much time together. 

“No,” Vladimir answered with a small shake of his head. “I miss them, but the money will go to a good cause and it’s nice to get to do something with you. I’ll see the boys if we eliminated and if we don’t then I still got to spend the beginning of the summer with them. It’s not as though I don’t see them at all during the regular season.”

“Okay,” Artemi said, satisfied with the answer. He held his arms out. “If you miss Yana, cuddle with me.”

“I’ll cuddle with you,” Vladimir agreed. The mattress dipped as he climbed onto the bed. “But it’s got nothing to do with how much I miss my wife. You’re not a very good replacement for her.”

“I’m hurt,” Artemi said. Closing his eyes, he turned to curl into Vladimir’s side as the other got settled. “But that’s okay as long as you still cuddle with me.” 

* * *

Jamie had never been more grateful for air conditioning in his entire life, as Tyler was currently using him as his own personal mattress. Tyler’s head was pillowed on Jamie’s chest while his legs hung over the edge of the bed. He was more than content to just lay there on Jamie, his breathing evening out and occasionally brushing his fingers along Jamie’s arm.

The situation wasn’t uncommon since Tyler took any and all opportunities to use someone as a piece of furniture. However, the house in Dallas was always kept at a nice cool temperature. While the temperature in the Big Brother house was comfortable, they’d just finished a fierce game of kickball. Cooling down after a workout was always a struggle. 

“So,” Jamie said as he drummed his fingers lightly against Tyler's shoulder, “we have to kill it tomorrow. I don’t think I’d be able to survive a week on slop.” 

Tyler hummed in agreement. “Totally, but let’s not do too well. Let’s just do good enough to not have slop, but bad enough to stay off the radar.” 

Jamie nodded. “Sounds like a good idea. No reason to show our strengths before we have too.” 

They lapsed back into silence. There wasn’t any real reason to discuss their game plan since it was only the second competition and they were only at the end of the second day. 

Jamie was keeping tabs on who everyone who they’re talking to. Everyone was a physical competition, so it would most likely come down to the social game. 

Jamie hadn’t noticed any real changes. The Russians were holding court and occasionally you could spot Nicky, Andre and Gabe talking somewhere in a corner. Sidney and Claude would separate occasionally, but always come back together sooner or later. Sidney usually spent time with the Penguins when he wasn’t with Claude or talking to members of team Canada that he was particularly close to, like MacKinnon or Tavares. 

Nothing too out of the ordinary and it didn’t look like anything Jamie wouldn’t expect. He couldn’t see where any alliances might form. But Jamie wasn’t always the best when it came to reading people. That was more Tyler’s area. 

He wasn’t going to bring any of this up right now though. Tyler was a little warm warm and smushing Jamie just a little, but Jamie was content to just wants to lay there and relax until he drifted asleep. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A] Hi everyone! We hope you enjoyed this chapter and are enjoying the story!
> 
> [A] Flower and Tanger reference the book Go the Fuck to Sleep by Adam Mansbach.
> 
> [A] This is just boys being silly and comfortable because you don’t have a competition everyday and you gotta do something on those days off. Originally this included the Have Not competition but I liked it ending there and S agreed.


End file.
